The Veil
by Peppermint Wynter
Summary: During the final battle, Harry and Hermione fall through the veil and find themselves in Middle Earth. Does this mean that Sirius is still alive? On their quest to find out, they meet with the Fellowship of the Ring and become a part of a whole new war. Harry finds himself befriending the elves and this begs the question: when he finds a way, will he want to go home? HP/LG slash
1. Chapter 1

It was fitting that the final battle, the battle to end all battles, should take place at the ministry of magic. It had all begun as politics, and it should end there as well. The death toll was staggering, on both sides, and it was a long bloody affair. Harry Potter was twenty-one years old, working as an Auror at the ministry, when everything finally erupted and the beginning of the end came to pass. He thanked Merlin consistently that he had advanced Auror training before it all started because, bloody hell, he wouldn't have survived ten minutes had it happened while he was still in school.

Harry took down another Death Eater with a silent _Avada Kedavra_, long past the point of caring whether he was using the Unforgivables or not; it was certainly folly to adhere to laws during a battle whilst the other side was not. He stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow, using the back of the hand holding Gryffindor's sword to so. Part of his intensive Auror training involved many kinds of hand-to-hand combat, chief among them sword play. When he pulled his hand away he was surprised to see blood smeared on his hand instead of dirt. The horrible pain that shot through his forehead at that moment let him know that the blood was his own. He couldn't remember being hit.

"Harry! Harry, watch out!" Without thinking, Harry ducked, and felt the tell-tale whoosh of air that meant a spell had whizzed past his head. It was a very close call, and he sent Hermione a wave of thanks for the warning after he took out the Death Eater (Igor Karkaroff, Harry noted with surprise) who had sent the curse his way in the first place. Harry honestly wasn't sure what spell he had used. He found a year before that he could make things happen simply by willing, or wishing, them to. He tried not to use the ability often, as it frightened people, but as he watched his would-be-murderer disappear in a cloud of purple smoke he decided he was very grateful he was able to do it.

Harry caught sight of Albus and Remus fighting back to back, and was momentarily in awe at the sight. They were a formidable team, each picking up slack where the other left off, moving in perfect sync with one-another.

"Harry Potter…I've been searching for you."

Harry had been waiting for this moment. He had been waiting in anticipation, almost hopeful, because one way or another he wanted this war to end. Either he or Voldemort would die this day, and the fate of everything would be taken off his shoulders. Whether he lived or died, this day was the day he had been waiting for since he was fifteen and learned of the prophesy.

The fight began. No one stopped to watch, but everyone was aware that their fates would be decided by the end of this match. They watched out of the corners of their eyes, hearts racing, no one truly certain what the outcome would be. The fight didn't last long, as one would expect of a fight to decide the fates of so many, but it was brutal nonetheless and each wizard displayed his finest spellmanship. If anyone were to stop and watch, they would have been awed and amazed at the sheer gracefulness of the fight, for it looked as if they were dancing together they were so in tune with each other.

In the end, Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort by a well-placed blow to the heart with Gryffindor's sword and a _Confringo _spell to the temple. Harry felt Tom Riddle's blood spatter onto his face as the man's – no, _thing's_ – skull exploded in a gruesome display similar to that of a water balloon popping. Harry took a very strong laceration curse to his side as a result of getting that close to his target, but Tom Riddle was officially dead and the elation, the pure sense of unbridled _freedom,_ Harry felt far outweighed the pain.

He dropped to one knee, holding his side and almost shedding tears from sheer joy. He looked around and noticed that nearly every Death Eater was dead. He saw Ron take out Crabbe senior and spared a moment to be grateful his friend was still alive and well. Looking around he saw Remus standing over Bellatrix Lestrange's body, a fitting end as she had been the one to kill his best friend. Dumbledore was alive as well, and Kingsley, Fred, George, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasely. Harry's heart swelled.

And then he saw Hermione and Lucius Malfoy still waging battle, and he gasped. Hermione tripped and was falling backwards into an extremely familiar veil. Quicker than he thought possible, Harry dashed to Malfoy, who was actually rather close, sliced him in the neck with Gryffindor's sword, and grabbed Hermione's hand which was the only visible part of her body.

His momentum, though, was too great and the added weight of Hermione falling combined to pull him forward, face first into the veil. He heard several voices, Severus' chief among them, call out his name as he fell but there was nothing he could do to stop himself. The momentum all but threw him in and before he knew it all that was familiar to him was gone.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected falling through the veil would be like. Merlin knew he'd imagined it many times when he thought back to the death of his beloved godfather, but certainly his imagination hadn't come close to this oppressive darkness, the overwhelming dark pressure that was thick and oily so that he felt if he should breathe it would seep into his lungs and choke the life out of him from the inside.

Breathe he did, however, when his mind started to fog from lack of oxygen and he knew he was seconds from losing consciousness. He was surprised when nothing ill happened, and took deep, greedy breaths to make up for the loss of precious air he'd had out of fear. He noticed at that moment that he could no longer feel Hermione's hand in his own and he began to panic. His Auror training was all that kept him from losing his cool, but as he took the extra effort to calm his rapidly beating heart he wish with all he had to find his lost friend and, just like that, the blackness receded and he was tossed forward as if being ejected out of a cannon.

He saw blinding light and a lot of green before his head hit something hard and he was in darkness once more.

"Harry."

Harry's head was cloudy and he wasn't sure where he was. He felt confused, but he knew the voice that was persistently calling out his name, piercing the thick fog that permeated his mind.

"Harry, wake up!" Hermione whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder.

"Hermione? What's going on?" He still hadn't opened his eyes, but he could tell through his eyelids that wherever they were it was outdoors. The light filtering in through his closed eyelids was bright, and he could feel that he was lying on a soft plant of some sort. He assumed it was grass, but it was plush and softer than any he'd ever felt before. He could hardly tell it was grass he was on, in fact.

"Harry, something's happened," Hermione said, pulling Harry into a sitting position. He blinked, taking in the lush forest surrounding him. He reached up to rub his eyes, forgetting momentarily that he didn't wear glasses anymore and thus trying to lift them before he remembered. This certainly wasn't the Department of Mysteries.

"Clearly," Harry deadpanned.

"Now's not the time, Harry, I've set up a surveillance spell around the area and it just told me someone is coming. Harry, I don't think we are in our own dimension right now. I-"

"What? What the blood hell do you mean, not in – " Harry cut her off, exasperated.

"Don't talk over me, Harry. I'll explain later, once we are out of danger." The urgency in Hermione's voice was clear, and Harry snapped to attention, remembering that Hermione had gotten him out of many horrid situations and he certainly trusted her.

"Let me do the talking, at least until I can assess the situation. I've read about other realms before, and I have a small inkling of what it might be like here." Hermione suddenly turned her head to the left and a terrified look crossed her face. Harry could see her clenching her wand down hidden at her side, and groped around for his. He couldn't find it, and he nearly panicked again before his training set in and he remembered to control his breathing.

"They're almost here," Hermione said, and within moments she was proven correct. They were surrounded in an instant, though neither of them heard so much as the crackling of a fallen leaf to betray the presence of the people around them. Harry and Hermione found themselves at the tips of at least seven arrows. Hermione clenched Harry's wrist to stop him from jumping to defend them.

"State your names, strangers," said one of the men and Harry turned to look at him. He was tall and clearly muscular, with long, thick blonde hair and skin altogether too perfect for a man to possess. He was wearing a grey hooded cloak, and had a quiver full of bows strapped to his back as well as a long sword at his side. He was certainly intimidating, but Harry couldn't help but find him rather handsome as well. His blue eyes were piercing, and held a certain intelligence that was obvious to all.

"This is Haren, son of Jamison, of Godric's Hollow. I am his sister, Hereswith," Hermione said, not looking in the man's eyes, but rather at his feet.

"What business have you here in Lothlórien?" the man said, never lowering his bow.

"We were travelling, sir. Where we know not. Our village was destroyed and we are all that remains. We got lost, and my brother fell and hit his head on that rock over there," Hermione said, pointing to the large rock to their left that still had Harry's blood on it.

Harry didn't know what to do but remain silent. He was lucky that he was adept at schooling his features because otherwise he was sure he would be gaping at these people like a particularly large and obtuse fish. He's seen many things in his years living amongst wizards, but this capped everything he'd experienced thus far.

"Why is your brother silent? Is he ill of the mind?" the man asked, eyeing Harry with skepticism.

"No, sir, but he only just woke up. The injury to his head was great, and it caused him to lose consciousness for a time. He is injured, sir, and the blood loss has made him confused." Hermione squeezed Harry's hand again to keep him from speaking, though the gesture wasn't necessary. Harry was still too flabbergasted to say anything, and what Hermione had told the man wasn't entirely untrue. He did feel woozy from the blackout and the blood loss, and it was all he could do to follow what was happening around him.

The men surrounding them, at a silent gesture from the person who spoke, lowered their weapons until they were pointed at the ground instead of at Harry and Hermione, and Harry had to resist uttering a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized exactly how tense he was until their bows were facing elsewhere.

The man walked closer to him and then knelt to examine Harry. Without asking permission, he reached up to Harry's face and lifted one eyelid and then the next, staring thoughtfully into his eyes as he did so.

"You have lost much blood, and need time to recover before you journey on. I cannot allow you to stay here in these lands without bringing you to speak with my lady, and for that I apologize." Harry liked the way the man's voice sounded. It was deep and soft at the same time, and it reminded him of a mountain breeze. The man was graceful, too, which he proved as he grabbed Harry's hand and rose swiftly to his feet, pulling Harry along with him.

Harry had to grab the man's shoulder for balance when his vision tunneled at the sudden change, and when his head cleared he gave him an apologetic smile and let go.

"I am Haldir, and these are my brothers and comrades. We shall escort you to the elven Lady of Lórien, and she thence shall pass judgment on you, for I nor my brothers can tell your lineage and I learned long ago not to trust the word of one who appears to be of men."

Harry nearly fell over in shock when he heard the man say "elven", for his idea of an elf was a scraggly little thing wearing a pillow case, and these people were surely the complete opposite. He wisely kept his thoughts to himself, though, for he was certain that should he mention his astonishment he would be in more danger than he was already. He looked surreptitiously at the man's ears and noticed that they were indeed pointed like those of the elves of Muggle fiction. For the first time, as Hermione gripped his hand and they began following the elves through the forest, Harry wondered what he had gotten himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, an astounding amount of followers for the first chapter already! Thank you all for the reviews! They make me happy :). One reviewer in particular I find I must answer personally. To **_**Perminatly**__**Lost In Thought**_**: I never considered Hermione with Aragorn! I find that I love Aragorn and Arwen's romance very much so, though I might consider what you ask. You'll just have to read and find out ;). **

**You'll find that much of this story progresses quickly, and then some parts very slowly. Hopefully it works! **

**Also, about the names Haren and Hereswith: Hermione, being the clever girl that she is, deduced that their names were too modern for this new place and quickly came up with two Old English names for them to go by. Handy-dandy Google suggested them to me. **

**Happy reading! **

**Chapter Two**

_Harry Potter._

Harry looked around for the person who had spoken, but saw no one but his elven captors. The voice was beautiful and clearly that of a woman. He thought that, perhaps, he had heard the voice in his head. No one else seemed to have caught wind of it, and he was certainly no stranger to occlumency.

_Yes, I am speaking to you inside your head. You and your companion draw near to me and soon you shall see who I am. We have much to speak about, Harry Potter; much that will affect you and those around you. _

True to the woman's word, within a few minutes they came to a clearing and in the middle of it a woman was standing. She was as beautiful as her voice would suggest, and a soft glow seemed to be emanating from her so that she looked as if she'd gathered the wandering rays of sunlight about her person and was wearing them like a cloak. The elves around them bowed deeply when they came upon this woman, and Harry followed suit.

"You may put down your weapons, friends. These young ones will not harm us," said the Lady, and immediately everyone shouldered their bows and placed their arrows back in the quivers strapped to their backs. "Haldir, if you would be so kind as to find a place for them to stay. Perhaps Haren can stay with you, and Hereswith can stay with Aleia."

"My Lady," Haldir said. He walked up to her quickly, handed her something and gave her a meaningful glance before bowing deeply once more and departing. Each of his comrades bowed once before melting back into the forest as well.

She waited a moment, seeming to listen keenly, before smiling and gesturing for Harry and Hermione to follow her. She had them sit upon wooden chairs, and then looked at each of them thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.

"I am Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien. I am sure that you have many questions, Harry Potter, and I have but a few answers for you; however, you may ask all that you wish and I shall answer to the best of my ability."

Harry didn't waste a moment in speaking, though perhaps the question he asked wasn't the one of the most importance. "Are you really elves?"

Galadriel laughed, a high jingling sound like the tinkling of water babbling through a brook. It was as lovely as her voice, and made her all the more attractive for it. "Yes, we are elves, or Fair Folk as some are wont to call us."

"Pardon us, my Lady, but we don't have elves such as yourself where we are from," Hermione said, though certainly she had read of the myth about Fair Folk before.

"No, I don't suppose you do. I know much more about your world than you probably are aware, both from your heads and from someone much like yourselves who passed through here many summers ago," Galadriel said.

"Who? You mean someone from our world was here before?" Harry asked, heart beating wildly at the thought he dared not to utter aloud. Was it possible? After all, they had found themselves in this strange place after falling through the veil, so perhaps…

"Yes, I do believe he comes from the same place as yourselves. I know not where he is now, but he spent quite some time here with us when he came, to recover and to learn about our world. That is something we shall discuss at a later time, for right now there are many other matters which we need to contemplate."

"How do you know my name? And how did you speak to me in my head?" Harry had been wondering that for some time. Was this woman perhaps not only an elf but a witch?

"I am old, Harry Potter, far older than I think you would guess. Elves have many magicks, though none of them are as your own. I can speak to you in your head because I possess a gift, and I know your true name because I can speak to you in your head." Harry wondered if all elves were as cryptic as this one. He got the feeling that he would not get many straight answers out of this woman if he did not ask the right questions.

"Do you know of a way for us to get home?" Harry asked at length, weighing his words carefully.

"I do not know of a way for you to get to your realm, but I do know this: Should you so choose to take the path which will soon be set before you, you may find a way to get there on your own. You may find, however, that you do not wish to take it. I know not what choice you will make, but I can see several outcomes," Galadriel began, folding her slender fingers together on her lap.

"Why would I not want to go home?" Harry asked, perplexed. He noticed then how quiet Hermione was next to him, and when he turned to look at her he saw that she had a look on her face which always meant she was thinking deeply. Her eyebrows were knitted together and her eyes were staring straight ahead and yet she seemed to be looking through what was in front of her instead of at it.

"Hearts are difficult to predict, young one, and you might find that your heart discovers a new direction in which it wants to take you. Of the many paths you could take, the two which have been most clear to me are as follows: Should you choose to go home, there is someone waiting for you who loves you very much. You will live a quiet and comfortable life, so far as I am able to see."

An image of Severus made its way into his mind's eye, and he nearly smiled at the thought of their budding friendship. They had kissed once, only briefly, a few weeks ago and he hadn't seen the man since, but he held hope. Severus was a difficult man, but fiercely loyal and Harry found as he got older that he more than enjoyed his company.

"And the other path?" Hermione chimed in when it appeared evident that Harry wasn't going to say anything more. Harry was startled, as he hadn't been aware Hermione had been listening.

"Should either of you choose to stay, a change will come about you. Currently neither of you are of this world. You are not of men, hobbits, elves, Dwarves or Istari. You are either a combination of some, or none at all. You cannot remain here long, as you are. Should you choose to remain in Middle Earth, it is my belief that you will become one of either men, elves, or Istari. I know not which one, but I know that you possess great magic. Especially you, Harry Potter. Whichever race you become, you will be very powerful and influential."

"Well, not to be rude or anything, but I don't fancy myself staying long, if we're being honest," Harry said, and Hermione kicked him. He turned to her to glare and she rolled her eyes at him.

Lady Galadriel smiled. "It is understandable that you should say that now, but give yourself time and you might find that you change your mind."

"What is this path you say will be set before us soon?" Hermione asked.

Galadriel looked at her and studied her for a moment before answering. "The man who came here before you, the one I believe to come from the same place as yourselves, do you know his name?"

"No, we have no idea who you're talking about," Hermione answered, though both she and Harry had similar suspicions. They dared not utter his name aloud, for fear of the disappointment of being wrong.

"His name, child, was Sirius Black."

Harry jumped out of his chair, heart racing, not caring that his momentum threw his chair backwards and toppled it over. "Sirius! Sirius was here? Is he alive? Where is he now?"

Harry was panicked, desperately wanting to believe what this woman said but too shocked to truly do so. How was that possible? The idea of Sirius being alive warred with the grief he had felt since he saw him die. He'd lived for years thinking Sirius dead. How was he supposed to come to terms with the fact that he might be alive?

"Yes, Sirius Black was the man who came through here many summers ago. He was as you are, though perhaps not as powerful. When my husband found him he was on the brink of death. Some dark magic had touched him, and it was many months before he was healthy enough to walk and talk. The Istari Gandalf the Grey came to watch over him, and with his help and some elven magic he lived. He stayed with us for a long time, learning of our land and how to fight with more than magic. Make no mistake, Middle Earth is a dangerous place to live and all who travel here should know certain things."

Harry's head was reeling. Sirius was alive. Sirius was _alive_! He had to set out at once to find him. It couldn't wait. He had to leave immediately.

"Where can I find him now? Is he well?" Harry asked all in one breath.

"As far as I am aware, he is well. Last I heard of him he was travelling over the Misty Mountains to Bree, in search of a place to live. I do not think that he is of the elves. He is much more of man or Istari. There is noble blood in him, of that I have no doubt."

"How do we get there? Please, I must find him! He is my only remaining family. He is not my father, but he is as close to one as I've ever had. We thought he was dead for all these years…" Harry stumbled back and fell into the seat Hermione had righted for him.

"I am afraid that I cannot allow you to leave as of yet. You will surely die, should you set out now. Our world is different from yours, of that there is no doubt. There are dangers here of which you cannot imagine. We will house you and teach you to survive here. Then Haldir will guide you on a quest to Bree to find Sirius, when you are ready," Galadriel said, and Harry vehemently protested. It was Hermione's grip on his arm and her soothing voice that made him see reason.

"Harry, Sirius has been here for a very long time. He will be fine, but we know nothing about this place. We need the help she is offering before we set out on a quest that could very likely get us killed," Hermione said, reasonably, pleading with her big brown eyes for him to listen.

"Okay," Harry said with great reluctance. His inherent urge to rush into situations which were far over his head warred with the training he'd had as an Auror. He knew that no one should jump head first into unknown situations. He knew that before Aurors travelled anywhere unfamiliar they were taught the customs and lay of the land so they were not easily ousted or killed.

"I am afraid that there is another reason why you in particular must learn to fight with weapons, Harry Potter," Lady Galadriel said, reaching into a pocket in her dress and pulling something out. Harry gasped when he saw, lying innocently in the palm of her hand, the broken bits of his wand. The Phoenix feather had been torn in half, and the wand was in many pieces.

"Haldir handed it to me when you first arrived. It was found underneath where you had fallen. My guess is that you landed on it. I know from speaking to Sirius that this was a way to channel your magic, and I am afraid that we do not possess the materials to make a new one."

She did sound honestly saddened, but Harry was as crushed as the bits of his broken wand. How was he supposed to survive without his magic? What would he do now?

_You will still be able to use some magicks, young one. And as for what you should do… You will do what the rest of us do. You will learn and you will live. There is great power in you yet, and I do not think it will be stifled because of this broken stick._

Harry looked at her, knowing how much his life was going to change from that moment, seeing in her deep eyes, brimming with wisdom, that there was a very long road ahead of him and it would alter him forever. A new determination washed over him, and he knew that he would learn all he could as quickly as he could in order to get to Sirius.

Harry Potter had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into.

Harry really wished he could stay with Hermione because, honestly, the tall, muscular elf named Haldir, though very handsome, scared him a little. As he bid Hermione goodnight, staring at her beseechingly as she was led away by yet another beautiful female elf, he sorely missed home and Ron. Hermione gave him her best semblance of a reassuring smile before turning away to chat with her new hostess.

As it turned out, the elves lived high up in great trees in homes much like tree houses, though they seemed to be grown from the trees themselves rather than built from wood. Haldir's home was large, with two bedrooms and a large room that Harry assumed was some sort of sitting room. There was a bed, of sorts, already for him. Haldir called them "pallets", but there was a sort of pillow and sheets and Harry was comfortable.

"You should rest now. Tomorrow, as per the request of the Lady of Lórien, I shall personally begin to train you and teach you about this realm. Should you wish to explore, you are more than welcome to, though I advise you to stay within the limits of the village."

With that, Haldir turned and left and Harry was alone. He paced around his room for a few minutes, perplexed. He didn't want to be here! He hated being idle, though he did know that sometimes it was necessary. Sirius was out there somewhere, and he wanted to find him and take him home. They didn't belong here, no matter what Galadriel said about the matter.

He paced over to the round window at the back of the room and looked out. There were people – elves, he reminded himself – wandering about, singing and laughing. A male and a female were chasing each other like children, breathless with mirth. Harry watched for some interminable amount of time before throwing his hands up in the air in restless frustration and going back out and down the tree. He ran into Hermione almost instantly and nearly laughed out loud when he saw what she was wearing.

"Don't you dare, Harry Potter!" Hermione all but hissed. "They didn't think it _proper _for a lady to be wearing trousers. They more or less forced me into this thing!"

Hermione was wearing a very pretty long pale blue dress with a low square neckline, and upon her waist laid a soft brown belt with a gleaming silver belt buckle in the form of a leaf. Her new cloak was a creamy white, and they had pulled half of her wild bushy hair back into a braid. Harry really thought she looked quite pretty, though perhaps like she belonged in a movie about medieval times. He told her as much and she glared at him for all she was worth.

Harry put his hands up in surrender, inexplicably cheered by the presence of his friend, and offered her his elbow. She looked like she would reprimand him again, but when she saw his roguish grin she relented and took the proffered limb.

"We should find somewhere to talk," she said, and Harry acquiesced without protest.

They walked for a while, nodding at the elves they passed. Harry noted again how striking they all were; men and women alike. He thought he must look quite uncouth with his messy hair and somewhat worse for wear wizard's robes. He fingered the holster on his hip where his wand usually rested and his mood soured somewhat. What was he going to do without his wand? He could do a few minor wandless spells, but undoubtedly nothing powerful enough to protect him from anything should he be attacked.

"I don't like not having my wand, Hermione," Harry said at length when they had not encountered anyone else for quite some time. They were on a path in the woods, and though they could still hear the sounds of the village they were no longer in sight of it. Hermione sighed and stopped. They found a tree with a little nook at its base and sat there facing each other.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I don't think there's going to be an Ollivander's here," Hermione said wryly.

"I know that, Hermione, but what am I supposed to do? It doesn't feel right, just sitting here while Sirius is out there. I want to go after him, but I know I can't do that without a wand. I'm torn here; restless and knowing I need to wait at the same time. I don't know what to _do_, Hermione." Harry looked at her imploringly, begging her with his eyes to have an answer. He was to be disappointed, of course, as those who seek answers to life's questions often are.

"All we can do is take what is being given to us here. Make no mistake, Harry, that what is being offered to us is a gift. We just have to take it and trust in those who know better than us. We are in over our heads in this world. I've read a little about other realms, but there isn't enough literature for me to know much." Hermione looked troubled, pulling at blades of grass and furrowing her brows.

"I know that there are dark things here. Dangerous things. There are things here of which we can't even begin to imagine, and should we strike out in search of Sirius without having even a little knowledge of what we're up against, I have no doubt we will fail and it will be horrible and more painful than you can imagine."

Harry groaned, knowing Hermione was right and wishing she wasn't. "You're right, as usual, but I don't know how I can sit here uselessly while we wait!"

Hermione reached over and placed her hand atop his own, smiling slightly. "We won't sit here idly, Harry. We will use the time here to learn all we can. We'll practice your wandless magic, and the elves have promised to teach us about this place and to teach you how to use some weapons. Nothing we do here will be idle. I promise you that."

"I'm glad you're here with me, Hermione," Harry said earnestly, and Hermione laughed slightly though there was no humor in it.

"You're glad? Harry, _I'm _glad. As I was falling through the veil I was so terrified… I can't explain to you how much safer I felt when you grabbed my hand. We'll make it through this, Harry. We're a good team, you and I."

Harry suddenly felt a little misty eyed; though he never would have admitted it should someone ask. They didn't have Ron, and he didn't have Severus, but he and Hermione had each other and he knew that it was their best hope of making it home.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, I suppose that my updates will be steady for a small amount of time. I keep thinking I have one chapter done, but I go back to the middle of it and add an entire other chapter so for each one chapter I end up with two or three! I have a good back stock of them, to be sure. **

**I have no idea how you all are going to react to my interpretation of Haldir, or really any of the elves, but there really isn't a ton of depth to them in the movies or the books, so I took free rein. I hope you all don't mind. Let me know what you think!**

**Without further ado, I present to you:**

**Chapter Three**

"Again," Haldir demanded for what Harry suspected to be the thousandth time. Harry groaned, panting with the effort it was taking to pull back the arrow again and again and again. His arm still smarted from where he'd torn it with his first attempt.

Harry and Haldir were standing in a practicing range, though they were the only ones there making use of it. The area was breathtaking, with tall grass and wild flowers far in either direction and on to lush forests with thick green trees. There were birds with songs more complex and beautiful than Harry had ever heard before flitting around in the trees behind him. The day was warm, but not sweltering, and a pleasant breeze played with his hair and cooled his face. This was their second day of bow practice. The day before was spent using swords, and the day before that was the first day of archery. Harry ached in places he didn't know he had.

Breathing heavily, he notched another arrow, pointed his bow at the ground, then brought it up slowly as he pulled it back. His arms were shaking, and he fought the urge to wipe the drop of sweat threatening to drip off his nose away. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up this rigorous task.

"Too much tension, Haren, relax your shoulders," Haldir said, coming up behind Harry and placing his rather large hands over each of Harry's smaller ones.

Harry supposed that, in a different situation, the position would have been sensual, but all he could think about were his screaming muscles and the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He did as he was told, though, and relaxed, listening to the comforting hum of Haldir's voice in his ear. All of the elves had pleasant voices, a fact that was not lost on Harry. He'd been in Lórien only a few days but already he felt as if he'd been there much longer.

"Good. Aim for your target," Haldir whispered, and this time Harry did feel the sensuality of someone else's lips brushing across his ear. "Be patient." He shivered.

Harry determinedly stared down his target, aiming as he'd been taught. He felt his shaking arms steady, and the world seemed to zoom in on the bull's-eye down range from him.

"That's it," Haldir said.

"Breathe in."

Harry did.

"Release."

Without a second thought, Harry let the arrow loose and it stayed truer than any of his others and hit the second largest ring. Harry groaned, but Haldir all but whooped in triumph.

"Excellent!" he said with great enthusiasm.

"What's excellent about it?" Harry grumbled. "I didn't even get close to the center."

Haldir laughed, a pleasant sound, and ruffled Harry's hair slightly. "I forget the impatience of mortals. A mighty oak does not start as a great tree, Haren, but as a tiny seed. You are but a sapling, and you are most assuredly growing. Look here."

Haldir guided him across the field to the target and started pointing out where all Harry's arrows had hit. "Do you see now? Until that moment you could not even hit the outer ring! And look, you hit much closer than any of your other attempts."

Haldir was right. There was one other hole in the entire target, just half on the outer ring, besides his latest one. Harry smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"You're right. Does this mean we are done for the day?" Harry asked, always hopeful. Haldir laughed again.

"Of course not! It is not yet noon. The day is young, my friend, and we have much longer to go before we rest. Come then. Again!" And away his teacher dashed with more energy than Harry felt was healthy for a grown person.

"Crazy elf," Harry mumbled, pulling his arrow out of the target and making his way back to the other end of the field.

"We crazy elves have magnificent hearing, Haren," Haldir called cheekily. Harry was beginning to wonder where the stony faced elf he had first met had gone. Surely he was preferable to this far-too-cheery version. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he was actually growing fond of the tall blonde.

"So I'm learning," Harry said as he approached the elf again.

"Again, Haren," Haldir demanded, all seriousness once more.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.

That night found Harry and Hermione sitting down to supper by the tree they'd found that first day. They seemed to gravitate there whenever they had time together, and this night was no different. Harry bit into one of the most delicious apples he'd ever tasted, relishing the sweet juice that filled his mouth. An apple was not simply an apple in Lórien. He took a sip of miruvor, an elfish drink that revitalized the drinker, and nearly groaned as he felt his weariness slip off him like a dirty robe.

"Is that miruvor?" Hermione asked, taking the goblet from Harry and sniffing it.

"Yeah," Harry said dreamily.

"They don't give that out lightly. How did you get it?" Hermione asked, taking a small sip and sighing in contentment.

"Haldir worked me a little too hard today, and said I probably deserved it for not passing out on him." Harry chuckled a little, taking the goblet back from Hermione and drinking some more. He didn't feel drunk, really, but he did feel uncommonly good and refreshed, as if he'd just woken up from a very long afternoon nap.

"Aleia says that she hasn't seen Haldir this excited about training someone in a long time," Hermione said, leaning back and placing a berry in her mouth. Harry noticed then that Hermione was wearing a different dress than the pale blue one. It was a very pretty light green, with a rounded neckline instead of the square one. This dress had a little lace tie up the front. Harry picked at his dirty robes, the same ones he'd fought the final battle in, self-consciously.

Brushing it off, he got back to the conversation at hand.

"I think it's the sheer joy he gets from seeing me in pain, Hermione. I'm telling you that elf is sadistic," Harry replied, though there was no venom behind his words.

Hermione looked at him knowingly. "You can't avoid being friends with everyone here simply because you plan on leaving. We don't know how long we will be here, Harry, and I get the feeling that this isn't a place in which you want to be friendless."

Harry let Hermione think that her reasoning was correct. In a way it was, in fact, but some part of him was afraid of making friends in Middle Earth because he feared what Lady Galadriel had to say about him staying. He didn't want to get too close to anyone because he was afraid he would want to remain in this strange place. Harry was loyal, and the type of person who loved those around him with all the heart of a Gryffindor and he absolutely did not want to get attached to anyone because in all honesty he was not looking forward to what his life was going to be like in the wizarding world now that he had defeated the Dark Lord. He would be in the constant spotlight, both from admirers and those who wished him dead. He knew he wouldn't be able to walk down the street without being ambushed, and he wasn't sure how well he was going to handle that. Should he get attached to people in Middle Earth, he might find it easier than he liked to stay.

"I have you, Hermione, one of my best friends since I was eleven years old. Who else do I need?"

Hermione laughed, though she wasn't fooled and knew he was changing the subject. She decided to let it pass. She knew Harry, and she knew how those around him could not help but love him. She had no doubts in her mind that no matter how hard Harry tried to keep people out, someone, maybe many someones, would wheedle their way into his heart. She truly did have a feeling that they would need all the friendship they could get in this strange land. Somehow she felt it would be a very long time before they made it home.

"Speaking of needing me… Did you notice that sometimes the elves speak a different language?" Hermione asked, remembering something.

"I did notice that. I wish I understood what they were saying." Harry grabbed a piece of the freshest bread he'd ever tasted and popped it into his mouth, sighing in contentment.

"I was talking with Lady Galadriel about that, and she thinks it would be a good idea to cast a translation spell on ourselves so that we can understand what is going on around us."

"A translation spell?" Harry asked.

"Well, not a regular one for times like when you are visiting a different country. Those are language specific, and far too short-lived. There is one I've read about that should work for almost any language, and it is nearly permanent. Lady Galadriel says it is a good idea, and should it wear off she believes we will have learned the elven tongue without realizing it by then anyway." Hermione took out her wand and fiddled with it, waiting for Harry's answer.

"Sure, why not? It sounds like a good plan to me!"

Hermione spent some time trying to figure out how to cast the spell. She'd read much about the theory; Still, reading about something and doing something are two altogether different things and it took her a little bit of time to get it right. When she'd finally figured it out the sun had set and the elves had mostly all gone up to their homes in the trees. Harry could hear them laughing and talking far above him, though there was no one in plain sight.

Harry, like a true gentleman, walked Hermione over to her tree. They meandered slowly, liking the familiarity of being in each other's presence. A thought struck Harry, then, and he debated whether or not to ask Hermione about it. He hadn't seen much of her and Ron in the months leading up to the final battle, so absorbed was he in work due to the massive spike of crime in the wizarding world, but he had been wondering this particular thing for quite some time.

"Hermione?"

"What is it, Harry?"

"You and Ron… I know you had a date scheduled a few months ago. How did that work?" Harry asked at last.

"It didn't. Ginny got very sick, and I was working at St. Mungo's overtime because of the increase in Death Eater activity," Hermione said, and she sounded almost wistful. Harry knew that she and Ron had been chasing each other in secret since they were very young. He had been waiting a long time for something to happen between them, and had been excited at the prospect of them finally going on a date.

They had reached Hermione's temporary home, and Harry stopped and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry to hear that, Hermione. You know Ron is absolutely crazy about you, don't you?"

Harry could see the tears welling in Hermione's eyes and was almost sorry he'd brought the subject up. She reached up to wipe a few away and sniffled.

"I do know that, Harry, and I only wish we hadn't taken so long to figure it out. I miss him terribly, you know, and it's only been a few days. I don't know how long we will be here, and I know it's a dangerous place, but I still very selfishly wish that Ron could be here with us."

Harry pulled Hermione into a tight hug and let her cry for a moment. Hermione was a strong woman, though, and it truly was only a moment and perhaps one choked sob before she was pulling away and wiping her eyes completely dry. Harry admired her courage. He wasn't sure how well he could deal with being away from someone he loved as Hermione loved Ron. He liked Severus a lot, sure, and he loved every one of his friends and adoptive family members, but he truly couldn't say that he had ever been _in _love with anyone.

"I'm sorry I brought it up, Herm," said Harry, but Hermione just chuckled.

"It's a good thing. We shouldn't avoid talking about those we've left behind. I don't want to forget them, and I'm sure that neither do you." Hermione pulled Harry into another hug. "Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you in the morning."

Harry watched her grab the first notch on the ladder up to the tree house and start to pull herself up before turning, a small smile on his face, and walking back to his own place. When he got there, Haldir was either already asleep or not in the house. Harry left his empty goblet and the bowl he'd carried the fruit and bread in on the small table in the sitting area and tiptoed to his room. He shut the door gently behind him and lit the candle in his room with a wave of his hand, thankful as always for the few small wandless spells Dumbledore had taught him.

He was surprised to note a small package, wrapped with giant leaves and a pretty purple flower for a bow, sitting in the center of his bed. He also noticed his bed was made, something he never did, and fought back a small pang of irritation at Haldir for doing it for him once again. It seemed the elf just couldn't resist. Swatting the feeling aside, Harry unclasped his dirty and torn robe, thinking he should really give it another wash the next day, and walked over to the package. There was no note on it or anything. Harry shrugged, trusting that the elven security wouldn't let anything bad get to him, and opened the package.

Inside rested a brand new set of clothes, complete with a hooded cloak and some ankle high boots. Harry nearly cried out in relief, throwing off all of his old clothes with a haste he was sure wasn't healthy. He had bathed in the nearby river earlier, after training, and had felt horribly gross putting on his old clothes. He shuddered to think about the blood and dirt that was still on his old cloak from the final battle, though he hadn't had the courage to ask any of his elven hosts for a new set.

The trousers in the box were black, and tied up the front instead of buttoning as he was used to. They were form fitting, as most elven clothes seemed to be, but they were comfortable and clean. The shirt was just as old style as the pants, and every bit as comfortable. It was a light brown and also had a small tie at the chest. Harry slipped on the brown boots - which fit like a glove - the belt, complete with a place to hold his sword, and the dark green cloak and was in heaven.

He looked back inside the package and noticed another pair of trousers, tan this time, and also two snowy white shirts. Atop these was a note written in a very pretty script in black ink. It read as follows:

_These will fit you perfectly, I assure you. I think you've earned them. You have worked very hard, Haren, and I am impressed with the progress you have already made. _

_Also, you smell. _

_Yours, _

_Haldir_

Harry snorted at the cheeky remark, though he couldn't help but smile. So maybe Haldir wasn't the sadist Harry kept making him out to be. As Harry took off the cloak, belt, and boots he thought that maybe making a friend or two in this place really _wouldn't _be so bad, so long as he was careful not to get too close. He set the box of clothes on the floor at the foot of his pallet and fell into the sheets, exhausted and happier than he felt he had a right to be, and before he knew it he was asleep.

**A/N: Review, please! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, here's another chapter. The proverbial ball is rolling here and within the next few chapters we're really going to get started on the good stuff! I believe our favorite elven prince will make an appearance very soon! **

**And, though Haldir and Harry are growing close and might have wee little crushes on each other, this will not be a Haldir/Harry story, however much I love the elf. If you all like the idea, then perhaps when I am done with this I will make another story in which that is the main pairing.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter the Fourth**

"Wake up, Haren! It is nearly mid-day! I have never met anyone who slept as you do!"

Harry opened one eye and groaned. Haldir seemed, at first glance, to be a quiet and broody elf, but Harry found after a month or two – he seemed to lose track of time in Lothlórien – in his presence that he had a rather fun-loving side, like many elves. He had been Harry's companion and personal trainer, proving to be fiercely loyal in the first and extremely adept in the second. He was always attributing Harry picking up the skills of the elves, such as archery, with such rapidity to his own skill as a trainer, though Harry knew it was much due to his own prowess as well.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed living with the elves, though he didn't expect to at first. They were at once wise and childish, playful and serious. They were graceful, and had a love of singing, for all of them had beautiful voices. He found wonder in almost everything they did, and discovered he had an affinity for many of their ways. Archery, as mentioned, he picked up quicker than any thought possible and though he wasn't as silent on his feet as an elf he was certainly learning and the elves all felt sure that he would be undetectable to a normal man.

Something Harry really didn't enjoy was the name Haren. He understood, after a lengthy talk with Hermione, that she thought using their given names might be a bad idea in the situation as they didn't know where they were or whether the elves posed a threat to them. Later, she decided that their usual names were altogether too modern to use in this old type world so they had stuck with Haren and Hereswith, which were names Hermione recalled being used in Old English. Harry was forever asking the elves to call him Harry, as a sort of nick-name, but they laughed and told him that he most certainly was not hairy and had no idea why they would call him that.

"Can't you let a man sleep, Haldir? What is so important that I need to be up now?" Harry asked, rolling over on his back to look at the altogether too perky elf.

"What's so important?" Haldir said, indignant. "Why, today Gandalf is coming! Do you want to simply roll out of bed as he rides up? Besides, Lady Galadriel wants you to join the guard today, such has your skill with the bow developed. We will test those sharp eyes of yours, lazy human."

"What? She wants me to join the guard?" Harry asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes! I warned her against it, of course, but she seems to think you able enough," Haldir replied merrily.

"Oi! What do you mean you warned her against it?" Harry asked, pretending to be annoyed but knowing in all honesty that Haldir was joking.

Haldir laughed. "Just don't tromp around like a blind bear, Haren, and give away our positions!"

With that, the elf threw a bundle of clothes at him and danced out of the room, laughing the whole way. "Bloody elves," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up on his pallet. The clothes were the colors of the guard, and despite himself Harry felt a little jolt of excitement that he'd be able to join Haldir and the others for a while.

He slipped on the dark brown breeches and tied them, marveling at how soft they felt on his legs. The forest green shirt fit him like a glove also, and he'd never felt more comfortable shoes than the calf-high boots he put on. As he clasped the grey cloak about his shoulders, he wondered once more at the skill of the elves. Even in his world, where magic was used to do many things, he'd rarely felt clothes as comfortable, nor tasted food as delicious, nor used weapons as perfect as those of the elves.

He strapped Gryffindor's sword to his waist along with the two long elven daggers he handled, then picked up his quiver full of arrows and put it on his back. He looked around for his bow, but couldn't seem to find it. Confused, he scratched his head and shrugged. Perhaps he'd left it out at the training grounds. It was a crude bow, one meant for a novice for certain, with nothing adorning it, but it was his and he was glad to have it. Without his wand Harry felt utterly defenseless in a way he hadn't since he was in school, and learning new methods of defense was something he relished. Of course he was no master at anything – though conceivably he was approaching a good level with swordplay after combining what he'd already learned in Auror training with what the elves had to teach him – but he showed a far greater skill than anyone expected of him, and the elves had high hopes for how far his skills could go.

"Haldir," Harry called as he walked out into the open. He saw Hermione standing around with some of the female elves, giggling, and he smiled. She fit in well in Lórien, that was for certain. She didn't like the long dresses she was given to wear at first, but the elven women loved her and she found that they all held a similar thirst for knowledge as she and were more than willing to teach her. Her hair grew quickly, as did Harry's, and as it grew it seemed to smooth out from frizzy curls to soft waves. Her cheeks were always rosy, and she constantly seemed to have a smile gracing her lips. Harry frowned then, suddenly feeling the absence of his other best friend with a horrible pang. He and Hermione often sat up into the night reminiscing about their school days and bemoaning the loss of their other part. He wondered how he was doing, and whether or not he thought them dead.

"What has you frowning so, Haren? Today is a beautiful day!" Haldir came up and clapped him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Harry looked up - Haldir was very tall - and smiled wanly at his friend.

"Just thinking about the past is all. We left many people behind, and sometimes I miss them very much," Harry replied. Haldir frowned, draping an arm over Harry's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Harry had confessed much about his old life to Haldir in his time in Lórien, and so his friend knew all about how he had gotten to Middle Earth.

"Your lover?" he asked, serious faced, and that made Harry laugh openly.

"No, nothing like that. I didn't really have a lover. Hermione, sorry Hereswith, and I had a very close friend, though, much like a brother, whom I fear we will never see again," Harry replied, frowning again.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you had no lover but sad to hear you lost such a close friend," Haldir said, smiling once more in spite of his words and letting go of Harry's shoulders.

"Why would that make you glad?" Harry asked, but Haldir wouldn't reply. Instead, he grinned widely and danced off, gesturing for Harry to follow him. Harry shook his head, smiling at the ways of elves, and did as his friend asked.

They came eventually to the same clearing where Harry first met Lady Galadriel, and there she stood once more in all her glory. He bowed deeply this time next to Haldir, so great was his respect for the elven queen who had taken him in and asked for nothing in return except patience.

"My Lady," Harry said as he pulled out of the bow.

"You are doing well, young one. You are flourishing here with us, and I wonder if it might be elf which you turn to should the time come," Galadriel said, almost more to herself than to the two in front of her. "Already you are looking more like one of the Fair Folk."

Harry didn't know what to say, as he was ever tiring of telling his companions that he didn't plan on staying in Middle Earth, so he settled for a simple thank you and bowed his head in acknowledgement. He hadn't seen himself in a long time, as there were no mirrors in Lórien, but should he have caught a glimpse he would have agreed with Galadriel. His hair was down to his collar bones, though with a slight wave unlike most elven hair, and his complexion was nearly perfect. His eyes were more vibrant that ever, and due to his constant training he had the lithe body of one of the Fair Folk, though because of his upbringing he would never be as tall as them, nor probably as pale because of his somewhat olive complexion and predisposition to tanning.

"I have some gifts for you, Harry, which I think might come in handy on your fast approaching journey," Galadriel said, and Harry looked puzzled.

"My Lady, I was under the impression that it would be some time yet before my journey was to begin," Harry replied, and Galadriel smiled.

"_You have lost track of time, Harry, as visitors often do," _Galadriel said in the elven tongue. Hermione, clever witch that she was, had cast a very efficient translation spell on each of them and Harry was glad for it.

"_What do you mean, Lady?"_ Harry replied in kind.

"_You have been here nearly six months. Did you not wonder at how quickly your hair had grown, or how much you have learned?" _

Harry reached up and touched his hair in wonder. _"I assumed it had to do with your land, My Lady. I feel the magic here and I thought it was helping things along for me." _

Galadriel and Haldir both laughed, and Harry blushed profusely. _"That is also so, Harry Potter, for the magic in our lands seems to favor you greatly. Nevertheless, it has been as I said. Your journey is nearly upon you, though do not fret. I suspect it might be six months more before you must set out."_

"_I still don't understand how I could have not noticed six months going by," _Harry said, still perplexed.

It was Haldir who answered him this time. _"It just is. Often visitors will think they have been here a few days, at most, and when they leave they find they have been gone an entire month. It is a simple thing to do here, to lose track of time." _

"Six months," Harry said in Common Speech, as they called English.

"You will get used to the idea," said Haldir, still jovially.

"Now, I should like to give you your gifts, Harry, so that you may learn to use them before you depart," Galadriel said, and Harry remembered his original purpose in coming to the clearing.

"I would be grateful, My Lady, though your hospitality has been gift enough for me," Harry replied politely. Galadriel nodded at him in acknowledgement of his statement, and Harry noticed for the first time that she was standing next to a little wooden table, upon which were two long boxes.

"First I have for you a new bow, tailored to you as your old one was not. It will not break, and though I hear your aim is great now, with this bow you will find you rarely miss your mark," Galadriel said, and she pulled out of the shorter box on the table by her side a beautiful black bow with an intricate design of leaves and vines. It was smooth and perfectly carved, and there was a part of him that could not wait to get out and give it a try.

"Thank you, My Lady, it is beautiful. I am always amazed at the craftsmanship of elves!" said Harry, holding the bow reverently in both of his hands. It was the most beautiful weapon he'd ever seen, and he was extremely proud to be able to call it his own. He knew he would cherish it always. Also in the box, he noticed as he peered closer, were many jet-black arrows with white feather fletchings at the ends. Harry definitely could not wait to test it.

"My last gift to you I hope will be the most useful. It was very difficult to create, and I had to send it to Gandalf himself to put the finishing touches on it. He delivered it only a few moments ago, and has agreed to help you learn how to wield it in his time here."

Out of the longer box Galadriel pulled out a very long stick, as it appeared to Harry at first. It was the same dark wood as his bow, with the same designs lacing the whole body; however, at the top was an intricately carved lion's head (Harry nearly laughed at the irony. Did they know he could turn into a lion?) made of a lighter wood. The mane blended evenly into the darker wood of the rest of the stick, and resting in the lion's maw, between his long teeth, was a beautiful clear stone of an indeterminable shape. When Harry handled the stick he felt an immediate rush of power from his head to his toes which reminded him so much of when he first touched his wand that he knew instantly this instrument was much the same as that. It reached from the ground to his shoulder in height, and he was instantly attached to it.

"It is a wizard's staff. No being except the Istari has ever had need of a way to channel magic, and we do believe that your magic is different than that of an Istari. We placed the core of your other instrument, that very strange red feather, in the center of this. It should serve you well."

Harry was in awe. There was no possible way someone could have gotten him a more appropriate or meaningful gift. Much to his embarrassment, he felt tears stinging his eyes and quickly willed them away as he bowed. "My Lady, I do not know if you could possibly understand how much this means to me. My magic…it is a part of me. A very large part. I have felt so lost without the use of it, so unprotected despite any training I've had. I will be forever in your debt for this." Harry was aware that he was nearly groveling, but to have a source with which he could channel his powers again, after months of being without, was so incredible that it nearly left him reeling.

"I do understand, Harry. You forget that I can see into your mind. I have watched you these long months, seen you grow, and also seen your hidden longing to wield that which is such a large part of you."

Haldir came up next to him then and placed a hand on his shoulder in support and Harry knew in that moment that, no matter what he'd said when he first came to Middle Earth, he had made some incredible and lifelong friends.

"I also made you something to go along with your staff," Haldir said and out from his cloak he pulled what looked like a very long belt which was laced, as was usual it seemed with elven fashion, with a thin design of silver. There was what looked like a large holster attached to it. "I created this so that you may strap your staff to your back, should you wish to use your bow. You might, too, as magic is very flashy and could give your position away in a manner which an arrow will not."

He helped Harry put it on, and had Harry been paying attention to anything other than the steady thrum of his magic he would have felt a few lingering touches on his back or chest as Haldir completed the task. As it stood, though, he noticed nothing, but Lady Galadriel saw many things which others did not and she hid an amused smile behind a dainty hand. It appeared her young Haldir had grown very fond of this young mortal indeed.

When Haldir was finished and it appeared Harry didn't know what to do other than continue to thank them, Lady Galadriel gestured behind her, where Gandalf the Grey was waiting idly, and the old Istari came forward out of the trees.

"Today I wished for you to join with Haldir and his comrades to patrol the surrounding area; however I now think it prudent that Gandalf begin to instruct you immediately."

Harry smiled brightly, and Haldir tried to hide a frown.

"Harry Potter, I would like you to meet Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf, this is Harry Potter," Lady Galadriel said, gesturing to each wizard in turn.

Harry was struck dumb momentarily, so much did this old wizard resemble Albus Dumbledore. For a moment he thought it was the man, come to rescue him after so many months; but no, they were not the same person. They were similar, but Gandalf was taller and more lean, with a hardness in his eyes which spoke of war in place of Albus' ever-present twinkle. When he smiled, though, Harry once again saw the striking resemblance. He knew immediately that he would grow to like this Gandalf the Grey.

"I must confess, Galadriel, that when you informed me of the arrival of a wizard from a different realm I did imagine him to be just a little older, and perhaps a little less elven in nature," Gandalf said, though he was smiling at Harry quite kindly.

"He is old beyond his years, Gandalf, as I'm sure you will soon learn. Haldir and I will leave you in this clearing to do as you wish. Should you have need of me, you know how to call," said Lady Galadriel, and she and Haldir left them then without another word.

Gandalf smiled at Harry and sat down in one of the chairs around the table. From inside his cloak he pulled a long pipe which seemed to light without him doing anything to it. Harry sat in the other chair and just watched the man smoke. Gandalf eyed him with a glint of mischief, and when he blew out a breath of smoke it took the shape of a soaring eagle. Harry grinned, and just like that the dam broke and they began to talk.

"Tell me about your world, Harry, for the magic surrounding you seems much different from my own," Gandalf said. He offered Harry his pipe but Harry shook his head. Gandalf shrugged and brought it back to his own lips. He radiated contentment.

"I think it might be. The magic here seems wilder than the magic from my own world; less manageable." Harry was staring at his staff, held in two hands. "In my world we use wands to channel our magic. They are similar to staffs, I suppose, but much shorter."

"There are none who wield magic in this world as young as you. Is this normal in your world?" Gandalf asked.

"Yes, though there aren't just witches and wizards in my world. There are muggles, that's non-magic folk, too," Harry said.

"Do you live together? I wonder how that works."

"No, we don't. In fact, I didn't even know I was a wizard until I was eleven." Harry looked wistful and though he didn't know it Gandalf was taking careful note of his expressions. Though he resembled Dumbledore, and they were similar in many ways, Gandalf was wearier of strangers and not quick to trust that which was unknown to him. He had a feeling Harry was a good person, but he wasn't sure as of yet and would watch him carefully until he could decide for sure.

"How could you not know?" Gandalf asked, openly curious.

"That's a very long story, I'm afraid," Harry replied, chuckling.

"Well, thankfully we are in a place where time matters very little. Thankfully also I do so love a good story." Gandalf smiled kindly at Harry and Harry acquiesced. He began at the very beginning, such that he knew it, when he wasn't even a blip on his parent's radar of thought, and continued on for hours until he had told Gandalf his entire life's story. He ended with the moment he and Hermione fell into the veil those six months prior. Gandalf, for his part, was an excellent listener and said not a word the entire time except for when Harry asked him if he were still comfortable, or if he was getting bored yet.

"And now we're here, in Middle Earth, and Lady Galadriel tells me it will be some time before I can find a way home. I am ashamed to say that recently I find myself feeling less of a desire to go home, though I miss my friends very much."

Harry wasn't sure why he was confessing so much to Gandalf. Perhaps it had to do with his resemblance to Dumbledore, or perhaps he was just a trustworthy fellow. Whatever the case, Harry hadn't said anything of his thoughts to Haldir or even Hermione, and saying it aloud was a great weight off his shoulders.

Gandalf didn't answer Harry right away. He sat and puffed away on his pipe, looking thoughtful. At length, he turned his pipe over and tapped it on the heel of his shoe to get rid of the spent leaves. "My," he said at last. "That is quite a tale. You have indeed led quite an incredible life. Not many could boast to such accomplishments even at my own age, and that is really saying something. I expect Lady Galadriel was correct when she said you are aged beyond your years."

Harry laughed. "That's been said to me often."

"As for you becoming more comfortable in Middle Earth, well, is it any wonder? Your life here so far has been peaceful and you've been able to start afresh, as it were." The thought hadn't really occurred to Harry. "Besides, the elven realms seem to have a certain effect, much like what you've described to me, on people. It is part of the reason we tend to lose track of time here. Many find themselves unable to think of things darker than what to eat for supper."

Harry felt inexplicably relieved, somehow, to know that it was partially due to elven magic that he was longing to go home less. He didn't know it, but it also had very much to do with the fact that the magic of Middle Earth was becoming part of him, testing and accepting him until he felt content in an otherwise strange land.

"Well," Gandalf said, rising to his feet and stretching. "Shall we begin?"

Harry rose to his feet and smiled, more excited than he would have imagined to start using magic again.

"Definitely."

**A/N: I just love Gandalf, don't you?**

**Review to make my poor author heart happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for the support, everyone! It means a lot to me :). It is so wonderful to hear that I've created something here that no one has seen in the fandom before! **

**I delve into a lot of book-verse here, which might confuse people who have only read the movies. Hopefully it doesn't, though! **

**Chapter the Fifth**

"Bombarda!" Harry said, pointing his staff at a nearby boulder.

Nothing happened. Harry wanted to pitch his staff in frustration. He and Gandalf had been practicing for weeks, and yet the only thing he'd manage to do was slightly singe the grass around him. Gandalf was patient, a quality which Harry seemed to be lacking more and more as his vexation increased. The old wizard didn't understand the spells Harry was using, but he could feel the build of power behind the words.

"You are very close," Gandalf said, standing from his perch on a tree stump and walking over to Harry.

"I don't _feel _close. I've accomplished nothing in the time we've been practicing," Harry said, knowing he was being petulant and not quite caring. He felt like a first year again trying to levitate the feather in Flitwick's class.

"Nothing? My boy, you have accomplished much. Your magic sings to me; I hear it and feel it trying to break through, but your magic is unlike any in Middle Earth. It's struggling, trying to shape itself into something that fits here; something which can be channeled through the staff." Gandalf lit his pipe calmly, and Harry deflated.

He remembered his training as an Auror, and Kingsley Shaklebolt's voice made its way into his mind.

"_Stop letting your feelings get the better of you, Potter. You are ruled by your emotions, and should you not learn to control them you will put yourself and your team into danger. You've been lucky until now, kid, but don't expect it to last long. You must learn to control yourself, to use your head. Being an Auror is about strategy, and many lives besides your own will hang in the balance should you not learn to think before you act and control yourself." _

Kingsley was always getting on him about that, making Harry stay longer than his team mates to practice control. He truly had always been ruled by his emotions. Had he not been, he wouldn't have made that nearly fatal mistake in his fifth year that ended in Sirius falling through the veil. He'd learned control, with the help of Kingsley, in his four years as an Auror and he tried valiantly to recollect it now.

"Alright, I'll try again," he said, taking a deep breath and setting his feet apart, holding his Staff in both hands. He stared very hard at the rock he was trying to explode, concentrating. It was so difficult without his wand. There were no wand movements, making everything he'd learned in his world next to useless, and he was beginning to suspect that the spells he was spouting weren't going to be all that useful either. Still, he didn't know what else to do other than keep trying his own methods. He steeled himself.

"Bombarda!" he shouted, and a bird that had been resting behind him on a tree branch squawked in outrage and flew away. The rock, however, remained as it was. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly. He readied himself to try again, but before he could speak the spell he heard hurried footsteps coming their way from his left. He quickly holstered his staff and drew his bow, pointing it into the trees in the direction he'd heard the noise. Elves, as a general rule, made no sound as they ran, so light were they on their feet. Whoever was coming could quite possibly be a threat.

He was surprised however to see a young elf named Alfawn tear through the trees. He all but skidded to a stop when he made it to the clearing in which Gandalf and Harry were practicing. Harry lowered his bow, putting the arrow back into his quiver.

"Alfawn! It is unlike you to be so loud. What's the rush?" Harry asked, but Alfawn hardly glanced in his direction. He only had eyes, it seemed, for Gandalf. It must be urgent then, as Harry and Alfawn were ordinarily on very good terms.

"Gandalf," Alfawn said, composed despite how far he'd probably run. "A ranger is here to see you."

"Indeed?" Gandalf asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, he claims his name is Aragorn son of Arathorn. I am sorry to interrupt; however, he says his news is urgent and cannot wait."

He needn't have finished his sentence even, for the second he had uttered the man's name Gandalf gathered his things and started making his way in the direction the elf had come. By the time Alfawn was done speaking Gandalf had disappeared into the trees. Harry was, naturally, curious and he picked up his cloak and clasped it about his shoulders before following his new mentor. He clasped Alfawn on the shoulder as he walked by, noting the look of irritation on his face at being so easily dismissed.

He didn't catch up with Gandalf – the man's speed was incredible for his age – but he made it out of the forest and into the village in time to see him embrace the man Harry assumed to be Aragorn. He was tall, certainly much taller than Harry, and somewhat wild looking. His hair was long and wavy, he looked like it had been some time since he'd had a good shave, and though he was handsome his skin was tan and weather worn. His clothes were all dark, giving Harry the impression that he liked to look mysterious.

"Aragorn! It is good to see you, my friend," said Gandalf, clasping Aragorn's forearm.

"And you, Gandalf. I must admit that you have been difficult to find. I have been watching the Shire hoping to catch you on your way to visit Frodo Baggins, but it recently became evident that you wouldn't be showing up there for some time." Aragorn's voice was deep, much unlike any of the elves.

"Lady Galadriel has brought a most interesting young man to my attention and asked a few favors of me having to do with him." Gandalf looked around and spotted Harry. "Ah! Here he is now. Come here, Harry."

Harry walked up to the two men, bowing his head to the side at Aragorn.

"Aragorn, this is Haren son of Jamison, though he prefers to go by Harry. Harry, this is Aragorn son of Arathorn. He is a very good friend of mine."

Aragorn reached out his arm and Harry reached out with his opposite expecting to shake hands. Aragorn looked at him strangely, though, and reached a little further to clasp his forearm instead. Harry took it in stride and returned the gesture. They nodded at each other once before releasing their hold on one another and letting their hands fall back to their sides.

Aragorn was looking at Harry curiously, cocking his head to the side only slightly. "Forgive me for my forwardness, but are you an elf, Harry? I admit that I cannot tell. You look very elven, and yet also like a son of men. I confess myself to be at a loss."

Harry laughed, tucking some of his way-too-long hair behind one of his (quite human thank you very much) ears. "I am neither. I'm a wizard, actually."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware that there were any more Istari in Middle Earth, and certainly not one so young."

Harry started to answer, but Gandalf beat him to it. "Harry is not an Istari as Radagast and I, but rather simply one who can wield magic. We call him a wizard, for lack of any other word. His sister, too, possesses similar talents." Aragorn was beginning to look very interested, much to Harry's dismay. Most of the elves, no matter how little he told them, knew already about his origins and so he'd had little cause to create a backstory for himself and Hermione. He was definitely unprepared to start answering questions without giving away the fact that he wasn't from Middle Earth.

"That is a discussion for another time, however," Gandalf said, bringing them all back to the present. "Alfawn has informed me that you had an urgent message for me."

"Yes, that is so. I have found the creature you sent me out for," Aragorn started. Gandalf perked up considerably, clearly interested. "A fellow ranger heard word of him, spotted stealing fish from open windows in a few villages. I followed that lead and found him near one of the towns catching fish from a pond and eating them raw. He is a vile creature, Gandalf, touched by evil and driven mad for it. I bound him and brought him with me to Mirkwood. King Thranduil was absent, but Prince Legolas has agreed to keep him in their dungeons until you are able to question him."

Gandalf looked happy enough to kiss someone, and Harry wondered who this Gollum creature could be to cause the Istari so much joy. "Aragorn, I shall be in your debt for a very long time, my friend. I will set out at once to Mirkwood."

That gave Harry pause. He needed Gandalf to continue to train him. Hermione couldn't even figure out how to help him use the staff, and the elves had little to no knowledge of such matters. What was he supposed to do when Gandalf left?

"Gandalf, what of my training?" Harry asked, quite bluntly. Gandalf stopped what he was doing and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Hmm." He ran a hand down his beard and pursed his lips. "I suppose you have a point. I am afraid, though, that this journey cannot wait. It will take at least a fortnight to make it to Mirkwood on foot, and I need to make it there with due haste. This is a matter of grave importance, Harry."

"Well, take me with you then!" Harry retorted, unaccountably excited at the prospect of being able to travel Middle Earth a little. "You can help me as we walk, or when we rest for the night. I won't be a bother, and from what I've heard of Mirkwood I'd wager you could use all the help you can get. I am very good with the bow and sword, whatever I may be lacking right now in my magical abilities. I think I would be useful if you were attacked by Orcs or giant spiders."

"The boy has a point, Gandalf. I need to be getting back to the Shire to take over watch and won't be able to make the journey with you. If he is skilled as he says, he would be a useful asset for this journey. You know there are still dark things lurking in Mirkwood," Aragorn said, and Harry was surprised but pleased that the man had jumped to his defense. Harry could tell, just by Gandalf's change of expression, that he held this Aragorn son of Arathorn's opinion in high esteem. Clearly he was a good man to have earned Gandalf's ear so thoroughly.

"You're right, I believe. Lady Galadriel has much confidence in him," said Gandalf, still stroking his beard. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take him along."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "When do we leave?" Harry found himself to be suddenly restless, unable to wait to get on the road. His Gryffindor heart was roaring for an adventure, though he hadn't cared one way or another until the prospect of one was put before him.

"Leave?"

Suddenly Hermione was beside him, looking at him and Gandalf – whom she had met briefly – in curiosity. Harry felt inexplicably guilty, abruptly, for he had honestly forgotten about Hermione for a few minutes so excited was he about leaving. She was there before him now, the woman he viewed as a sister, who had been with him through all of his perils, and he felt horrible.

"Where are you going?" she asked, though she didn't really sound upset.

"Er…Gandalf has to go somewhere and seeing as we haven't finished my training yet…well, we thought I might go with him." Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, that sounds like a good idea to me. How long will we be gone?" Hermione asked, smiling at the men around her.

"M'Lady," Aragorn said, bowing, and Harry groaned. He could tell by the man's tone what was coming next and he sorely wished Aragorn wouldn't say it. Of course, he did anyway. "The road is no place for a woman such as yourself. There are many dangers of which you know not. You'd be better suited to stay here amongst the elves."

Harry had been watching Hermione with trepidation whilst Aragorn was speaking. Aragorn couldn't see what his words had done (yet), but Harry knew Hermione very well and could see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Really, she shouldn't be so angry. She knew better than Harry did that this realm was very old fashioned. He didn't agree with it, of course, and knew Hermione could handle herself, but how was Aragorn to know? He'd only just met her, after all. She wasn't thinking clearly though, and had worked herself up to a nice level of offended and outraged before she exploded.

"_Excuse me?!"_ she said, her voice high pitched in a way that made Harry fear for his safety. "You don't know me at all! Who are _you _to make the judgment that the road is no place for me? I can very well handle myself, thank you very much, _sir, _and if you think some chauvinistic man like yourself knows better than me what I should do then you certainly have another thing coming! Why, I've never!"

Harry hadn't seen Hermione lose her temper so spectacularly since she clocked Malfoy in the nose in third year. She was older now, and so didn't do anything as silly as deck Aragorn, but Harry felt the wind pick up and saw the sparks at her fingertips. He hadn't seen anyone but himself lose control of their magic in a fit of anger, but he knew the signs. Aragorn was looking bewildered, clearly not used to being spoken to in such a way by a woman, and also clearly frightened by the magic crackling in the air. Harry decided to intervene before anyone got hurt, placing a hand soothingly on her shoulder.

"Calm down, 'Mione. He didn't mean anything by it. You know better than me even that people are just that way here." He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You're about to lose control of your magic. Breathe, Hermione."

Hermione took one long breath through her nose, closing her eyes and letting it out slowly. The wind died down to near stillness, and the sparks at her fingertips disappeared. Harry rubbed soothing circles on her back, reassuring her that no one meant any harm. Truth be told, he was just as bewildered as everyone else about her sudden and fervent anger. He thought that maybe it had to do with her missing Ron. He wasn't sure though, as he hadn't spoken to her much recently. Maybe she was lonely? He felt guilty all over again at the thought. They were together in this, with only each other in the scheme of things.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said at last, looking not at Aragorn but Harry. "I haven't used magic in a while, and I think it's causing some problems." Her eyes said what her words didn't, though, and Harry knew his suspicions were correct. He resolved to spend more time with her whenever he/they got back.

"M'lady," Aragorn said, and Harry and Hermione both turned their attention to him. "I did not mean to offend you. I simply meant to keep you from danger. Forgive me, but I have never seen a woman who could wield magic, and if I may be so bold I must admit that you look far too beautiful and dainty to be able to fight." He bowed again. Hermione's face turned beet red and she grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed.

Gandalf chuckled then, and Harry started. He'd been so silent during the whole affair that Harry had forgotten he was standing there. The old man was smiling broadly. "Well, it's always good to see someone take Aragorn by surprise. I must admit that it doesn't happen often."

"Can she come with us, Gandalf? We've hardly been separated since we were young. We've shared many adventures and she's gotten me out of a lot of trouble," said Harry, clutching Hermione's hand in reassurance.

Gandalf looked thoughtful again. "I do not doubt her skills, Harry. The power she possesses is evident; however, I do think that it would be best if she stayed here." Hermione looked as if she would protest again, but Gandalf held up a hand to stop her. "Not, as you might assume, because you are a woman Hermione." Harry wondered how Gandalf knew her real name, as he couldn't recall ever telling him. "Rather, I think this would be best because there are many enemies in Mirkwood and I would rather not draw attention to ourselves. I would not even take Harry had I not promised to train him, and I do believe that three people travelling together might draw more attention than we'd like. It will increase the danger for all of us."

Hermione deflated, grumbling in grudging consent and crossing her arms over her chest. Gandalf gave Aragorn a look as if he couldn't believe Aragorn had tried to handle the situation in such a manner and, really, look how easy it truly was. Aragorn, for his part, was looking a little sheepish. Harry was glad the situation had been diverted, but also a little sad that he wouldn't have Hermione with him. They really _had _been together since they were eleven, and it would be strange not to share this experience with her.

"You had better go and pack, Harry. We leave in two hours," Gandalf said and Harry nodded in understanding as Gandalf and Aragorn walked off together, delving deep into conversation.

"Come on, Hermione. Sit with me while I pack," said Harry, offering Hermione his elbow. She took it without argument.

"Lead the way."

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Harry was packed and ready to go by the time Gandalf's deadline rolled around, though not without considerable help from Hermione. In his rucksack he brought two extra shirts and one extra pair of pants, some lembas bread, a small flask of miruvor just in case, and varied fruits. He also brought his staff and bow, though he had trouble deciding between his daggers and sword. In the end he brought his daggers, thinking his sword might get in his way and he already carried two large weapons so a couple small ones would probably be good to have.

When he said goodbye to Hermione he hugged her very tightly and let her give him a kiss on the cheek. "You should shave," she said, in lieu of anything else. Harry smiled, rubbing his cheek. He didn't seem to need to shave as often lately, and so tended to forget about it.

"It'll keep me warm," he said, nudging her.

Instead of laughing she looked at him quite seriously, searching his face with her wide eyes. "Be careful, Harry. We haven't left Lórien yet, but from what we've learned there are some very dangerous things out there. Just be safe."

Harry promised he would, hugged her one more time, and made his way back to the clearing where he and Gandalf trained. Gandalf was already waiting for him there, along with Aragorn, Galadriel, and Haldir. Harry hadn't seen Haldir in a couple days, as the elf had been on patrol. He didn't look incredibly pleased for some reason. The blond was holding the reins to two horses, one palomino and one beautiful seal brown. Each horse had a full saddlebag attached to it, along with a rolled blanket. Harry made his way over to Haldir, smiling.

"Hello there, pesky elf. How have you been?" he asked, patting the brown seal colored horse on the nose affectionately. It nickered and nuzzled closer to his hand, and Harry's smile broadened. Haldir rubbed the palomino on the neck, smiling slightly.

"Greetings, insolent human. I am well. Lady Galadriel tells me you are going on a journey to Mirkwood."

"I am," said Harry simply.

"Well, if you _must _go, take these horses with you. It should shorten your journey by half. This one," Haldir said, nodding to the palomino. "is Sirdal. She is a very good swimmer. This one is Belan. He is my own, and he will carry you swiftly wherever you wish. He is a very good horse. Take care of him, Haren, and he will take care of you."

Harry took Belan's reins, feeling flattered and pleased. "Thank you, my friend. It means a lot to me. I promise I will take very good care of them."

Then Haldir did something he had never done before, something that took Harry very much by surprise; Haldir reached out and pulled Harry to him in a tight embrace. Harry didn't react for a moment due to shock, but quickly regained his senses and hugged the elf back. Before he knew it, Haldir was pulling away. He nodded once to Harry, patted Belan on the side, and left. Harry watched him go for a moment, bewildered.

"He is very fond of you, Harry Potter," said Lady Galadriel after a moment and Harry turned to look at her.

"Well, I'm fond of him too. He's a good friend."

Lady Galadriel laughed. "I am not sure that friendship is all Haldir has in mind. Tread carefully, for elves do not give away their hearts lightly. Haldir is very important to me, and I do not wish to see him hurt."

Harry blinked, gaping. So, what, Haldir had a crush on him? What was he supposed to do with that? Did he fancy Haldir, too? Suddenly Harry felt very bogged down with thoughts, as if a floodgate had opened and he couldn't staunch the flow.

"Do not worry too much about it now. You have a long journey ahead of you, and your mind should be on the task at hand. I simply wished to point it out to you so that you may sort out your own feelings," Lady Galadriel said gently. "And now I bid you farewell, Harry Potter and Gandalf the Grey, and pray that the Valar watch over you on your voyage."

"Thank you, Lady Galadriel," said Harry, and Gandalf mirrored his sentiments. Galadriel smiled at each of them and followed Haldir into the forest.

Aragorn bid them farewell, melting into the forest in the direction opposite of Haldir and Galadriel.

"Are you read to go, my boy? You can strap your bag to the saddle if you wish," said Gandalf, mounting Sirdal. Harry did as he suggested and strapped his bag to the horse's saddle. He was a little awkward while mounting the horse, as he'd only ridden a few times in primary school as a child, but it came back to him soon enough and he was ready to leave.

"Ready," he said, and without further ado he and Gandalf took off through the forest towards Mirkwood.

**A/N: Alright, so Harry and Hermione are separated at last! Some serious action is coming up in the next chapter, so be on the lookout for it! Am I going to slow here for your liking? I've been wondering if I should skip ahead or not. Let me know what you think! As always, your wonderful and encouraging reviews keep me going on this story and I am always pleased to have them. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, hey! I've been archived four times! That just makes me super happy, especially since at least two of those communities claim to house the "best" fics. Thank you to whoever did that! **

**I know you're all curious about who Hermione is going to end up with, but all I have to say is you have to wait and see ;). **

**Here we go, ladies and gents: **

**Chapter the Sixth**

"Gandalf!" Harry called, wincing as he felt the bruises on his rear. "Hey, can we stop for a mo? It's getting late anyway, and I want to hunt a rabbit or two for supper."

Gandalf pulled on Sirdal's reins, slowing her to a trot. Harry followed suit, drawing only lightly on Belan's reins. The horse hardly needed any direction from him at all, so in tune was he to Harry's wishes. Gandalf and Harry had been travelling for about five days, making great time as far as Harry was concerned. They travelled along the edge of the forest, trees to their right and the river Anduin to their left. Gandalf told Harry that Thranduil's castle was at the far end of Mirkwood, and though it would be quicker to travel through the forest it was far too dangerous to do so. They entered the trees only to hunt. Harry hadn't made much progress with the staff, though he'd worked a lot on his wandless magic and could do a few defensive spells.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to rest for a while. I shall get a fire going while you track your rabbits," said Gandalf. They brought their horses to a halt halfway between the forest and the river. Harry took the saddles off the horses, patting their sweaty sides.

"Don't wander too far now, okay?" he said. Each horse nickered at him in turn, and Belan pressed his nose to Harry's cheek before snorting and cantering off to get a drink from the river.

Harry grabbed his bow and quiver full of arrows and made his way into the forest. It was quiet, as usual, without even the creaking of insects to break the silence. He tread as lightly as he could, calculating each step and using every skill he'd learned from Haldir. He listened carefully, searching for the tell-tale sound of rustling leaves or bushes. For a long time he heard nothing, not even his own footsteps such had his skill grown.

Then he heard it. To his left and just a few steps away there was the crack of a twig. He crouched down low, notching an arrow and creeping slowly towards the noise. He hardly breathed. He crept around a large oak and there, standing on two legs and sniffing the air, was a huge rabbit. It was brown and fat, clearly full grown. He pulled back his arrow, took careful aim, and let it loose. It hit the rabbit clean through the head and Harry almost whooped in triumph before he remembered Gandalf's warning to be as quiet as possible while in the forest. He stood and made his way over to the felled animal, pulling the arrow out and picking it up by the ears. It was heavy enough to feed the both of them, possibly twice, so Harry strapped it to his belt and made his way back out of the forest.

"That is a fine catch, Harry. The elves were not exaggerating when they spoke of your skill with a bow," said Gandalf when Harry returned and showed him the rabbit. Gandalf took it from him and skinned it, something Harry was still a little uncomfortable with. Gandalf had found some reedmace and cut up the roots to go into a sort of stew for the rabbit, along with some chicory roots. It was quite delicious, and Harry was on his second bowl before long.

"Tell me about the Shire, Gandalf. Do hobbits live there? The elves don't seem to care much about hobbits one way or another, so I've really only heard mention of them in passing," said Harry, sipping his broth and leaning back against his bags. Gandalf was, as usual, puffing away on his pipe, making butterflies and all sorts of other strange shapes from the smoke.

"Yes, hobbits do live there. I am not surprised to hear that the elves don't speak much of hobbits. Most do not, and yet I find myself fascinated by them. They are occasionally fat and lazy, and they have a penchant for drink and food, but they are sturdier than you can imagine. Many people underestimate hobbits." Harry did note the fondness in Gandalf's tone when he spoke of hobbits.

"I should quite like to meet one. A hobbit, I mean," said Harry. "What is Aragorn doing guarding the Shire?"

Gandalf looked at him sharply. "I am surprised you were paying that much attention. You ought to be careful whom you eavesdrop upon."

"I wasn't eavesdropping! You were speaking out in the open. It isn't my fault I heard. Anyone could have," Harry said defensively. Gandalf looked at him piercingly again before sticking his pipe back into his mouth and taking a buff.

"I suppose you are right. I tend to forget myself around elves, so safe are their borders. Very well. I shall tell you." Gandalf leaned in closer to Harry, lowering his voice, and Harry leaned closer in turn to hear him. The firelight flickered off the old man's face and beard, reminding Harry with a pang of Dumbledore.

"There is a hobbit there whom I believe is going to change the fate of Middle Earth forever. You heard Aragorn say his name. Do not speak it. I fear evil is searching him out. Aragorn and a few others have agreed to watch out for him until I am able to return. This hobbit is a very dear friend of mine, and possibly the most incredible hobbit I've ever had the pleasure to meet. He is destined for great things, Harry Potter, of that I am sure."

"Why would evil be seeking him out? He's only a hobbit, after all," said Harry, whispering as well.

"There is no such thing as 'only a hobbit'; though, it is not the hobbit that is being chased but rather something he carries. I hope my suspicions prove false, though I know in my heart that they will not."

"So you aren't positive that he's being sought out?"

A log cracked in the fire, making Harry jump. He hadn't noticed how quiet it was until that moment. Outside the forest there were usually many noises from wildlife and wind. One could usually hear the croaking of frogs and the singing of grasshoppers. It was completely silent now, save the sound of the nearby rushing river and crackling flames. Gandalf drew Harry's attention to himself again, and Harry momentarily forgot about the silence.

"I am hoping that this creature, Gollum, will be able to shed some light on the subject," said Gandalf.

Harry was going to reply when he heard the distinct sound of a boot upon the ground. He jumped to his feet, crouching and drawing his bow. His hearing had improved since he'd come to Middle Earth, along with his eyesight, so he'd heard the noise long before Gandalf would have.

"Shh," whispered Harry, holding a finger to his lips. "There's something out there."

Gandalf rose to his feet then, holding his staff in one hand and drawing a sword in another.

"Do you think we shoul – " Harry's question was cut off as an arrow whizzed by his head. It missed, thankfully, but it left a nasty gash on his cheek. Suddenly an animal howled, though it was unlike anything Harry had ever heard before. It made his skin crawl.

"Orcs!" Gandalf shouted suddenly, and a white light burst from his staff. It illuminated the whole area, and what Harry saw made his heart stop.

There were tons of them; great big ugly creatures with grey skin and rotten sharp teeth. Gandalf sent a few flying with whatever spell he'd used, and Harry let loose an arrow and hit one in the skull. All hell broke loose then, and it was almost a blur to Harry. He shot down many more creatures before they closed in and they were too close for him to use his arrows. He quickly strapped his bow to his back, reaching into the holsters on his belt and pulling out his long daggers.

Immediately he slashed the throat of the nearest orc, hardly noticing the thick, black blood that splattered onto his hands. It reeked, like a very old dead body, but Harry ignored it and continued to fight. He was sore, and tired, and one of the orcs had hit him in the leg with an arrow. He had sincerely hoped to keep from showing anyone in Middle Earth that he was an animagus, as he wasn't sure how anyone would take it, but he knew he could fight well should he change and his arms were growing tired from the constant slashing with his daggers. The orcs just kept coming, and their beasts (wargs, he thought) were extremely difficult to take down. He had no other choice. He strapped his daggers to his belt again and concentrated. It had been some time since he'd used his animagus form, and it took longer than he would have liked but soon he felt the familiar tingle of magic as he shifted seamlessly into a lion of enormous proportions.

He roared mightily, leaping on the nearest warg and tearing its rider from the creature's back. The orc was dead before it hit the ground, and Harry spun around to face the mount. The thing howled at him before charging, but Harry met it head on and bit down on its neck, twisting and snapping it before moving onto the next one.

The battle went on like that for a long time, and he only caught sight of Gandalf on a few occasions. He was taking down three orcs at the same time when a warg leapt onto his back and dug its claws into his hide. He roared and tried to spin around, but the thing was clinging to him and tearing at his flank, snarling. He leapt up in the air and spun around, landing on his back and thus dislodging the creature. He was too slow, however, and injured so before he could get up and turn around to face the warg it was on him again and he was pinned to the ground, bellowing and snarling, fighting for all he was worth. He watched, helpless, as the thing moved in for the kill, making to wrap its jaws around his neck. Before it could, there was a whistling sound and a pure white arrow was suddenly sticking out of the warg's skull. The arrow severed its spinal cord instantly, and it fell off Harry without so much as a whimper. Harry shakily rose up onto his massive paws, aware that he was bleeding everywhere and close to losing consciousness.

He saw several people – elves, he thought with a jolt of hope – bearing down upon the remaining orcs before his vision tunneled and he blacked out. Immediately after he fell a tall blonde elf came to him and knelt next to him, pulling his own arrow out of the fallen warg as he did so. The elf watched in wonder as Harry shifted back into a human, then fear as he noticed the many lacerations covering his body.

"_Lossehelin!" _he called in elvish. A dark haired elf ran up to him quickly and knelt by his side. _"We need to get him to the castle immediately. He needs treatment!" _

"_Of course, Prince Legolas. I will take him right away,"_ the elf replied. He leaned over and gingerly lifted the boy into his arms before, with the help of Legolas, putting him into his saddle and mounting up behind him.

"_Quickly Farwaine," _he whispered into his horse's ear and the horse shot off like an arrow. Belan ran up next to them suddenly, and kept pace with them the entire way to Thranduil's castle. The elves were hard pressed to get the horse to leave the boy's side once they entered the kingdom.

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Harry woke with a start, soaked in sweat. He sat up immediately, regretting it almost right away when his vision swam and he nearly passed out once more. He felt cool silky sheets fall to pool around his hips. Not still on the road then. The room was very bright. Hospitals were certainly no mystery to him, and he suspected he might be in one now. His torso was bare, though covered heavily in bandages.

"Harry, my boy! Good to see you amongst the living once more," came Gandalf's voice from his side and Harry looked over to see the old man sitting in a chair next to his bed.

"Gandalf? Where are we?" Harry asked, holding onto his head.

It was not Gandalf who answered, however, but a blond elf Harry hadn't noticed was standing in the room. He was wearing brown and green, with a silver circlet upon his brow. His hair was partially braided. He was tall and lithe, and though their complexion was the same he was very different from Haldir. He had a strong jaw, his shoulders were not as broad, and he seemed more graceful if that were possible. He was at once very beautiful and very handsome.

"You are in my father's castle, located in Mirkwood," said the elf, and his voice was as pleasant as his face.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, not in awe or anything as silly as that, but with a considerable amount of suspicion. He'd never met elves other than those in Lórien and he wasn't sure if they were trustworthy.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and prince of Mirkwood." He bowed his head to the side in greeting.

"Legolas and his men came upon us just in time, Harry. They saved us. Indeed, it was Legolas' arrow which felled the beast who was about to kill you," said Gandalf. Harry gave the elf another look, deciding that if Gandalf trusted him then he would, too.

"I'm sorry, Prince Legolas, but I have not had a lot of reason to trust strangers in my life. I am pleased to meet you, and am in your debt," said Harry, all manners and politeness. Much to his consternation, he found himself speaking more and more like the elves by the day.

"There is no need for apologies, Harry Potter, but perhaps there is need of an explanation. Gandalf has explained to me about your unique abilities, but not even he could figure out how you managed to transform into such a powerful beast." Harry looked sharply at Gandalf, wondering why he would have told Legolas his real name when Harry had tried so hard to keep his origins secret. The man simply smiled at him, radiating contentment.

"It is something many of us are trained to do where I am from," said Harry, frowning at his loss of contractions. "I'm able to become a lion and my sister an owl."

"What is a lion?" asked Legolas, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

"It's like a very large cat. A hunter and a very strong animal. Some people call them kings of beasts." Harry remembered fondly how jealous Ron was when he found out Harry could turn into a lion. Ron was a golden retriever, which Harry thought was far more useful in the scheme of things. How easy would it be to hide as a dog as opposed to a hulking lion? Fat chance he'd get away with trotting down London as a behemoth of a cat. Still, it had proven to be dead useful once or twice when he'd dropped his wand on a mission.

"I have never heard of such a skill," said Legolas. "It was quite the sight to behold on the battle field."

Harry picked at the sheets, embarrassed. "Well, it took a lot of work, to be honest. Not everyone can do it, and I almost wasn't able to either."

"Well, you were true to your word, Harry, and proved to be very useful indeed on this journey," said Gandalf suddenly. "I do not believe I would have survived such an attack on my own."

Harry grinned. "I told you so." Gandalf laughed, nodding his head in approval.

"That you did. And now that you are awake I feel confident that I can leave you and go interrogate Gollum." He turned to Legolas. "He is in the dungeons, yes? I daresay I know the way there myself."

"He is in the dungeons. He is in the only occupied cell. The guards will let you in." Legolas placed his hand on Gandalf's shoulder as he rose. "I bid you to be careful, Gandalf. He is very ill in the mind and apt to strike out. None of us have had luck getting answers out of him, as it is very difficult to stay in his presence. He is a pitiful creature, my friend."

"That he is, Legolas, though I would not underestimate him," said Gandalf, rising to his feet.

"There are fresh clothes for you, Harry, on the back of that chair over there. You'll find that the elves also brought your weapons and cleaned them for you." By the time Gandalf was finished talking he was already to the door. It shut behind him with a thud.

A silence fell in the room, awkward at best. At length, Harry looked at his host who seemed to be doing nothing other than studying him closely. "Erm," Harry said. "Perhaps you could let me get dressed." He was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he was naked.

"Of course," said Legolas, looking a little embarrassed. "When you are finished, if you follow the hall just outside these doors you will come to a balcony. There is food for you there. I am sure you are hungry."

"Thank you." Harry bowed his head, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately, and Legolas left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The clothes were typically elven, though perhaps more luxurious than those he was used to. The shirt was white, soft as anything he'd touched, and the outer robe was a deep red with wooden toggles up the front and a high neckline. Both were very light and very comfortable. The trousers were a very dark brown, and he had his own boots. He found his wounds were tender, though probably not as tender as they would have been had they not been worked on by a little magic. Dressing was difficult, but he managed in some time.

There was a fine comb sitting on the bedside table and he ran it through his hair, wincing at the tangles. He had no idea why all of the men in Middle Earth had such long hair. It was a pain. Still, it seemed to somehow fit the elf prince, Legolas. Harry stopped what he was doing, laying the comb thoughtfully on the table again. Legolas reminded him of Haldir, but there was something about him that was different. He was very pretty, though Harry felt sure no man, elf or no, would be happy about being called that. There seemed to be a hidden power behind Legolas' grey eyes.

Then, Malfoy had a pretty face and stormy grey eyes too, and look how he ended up. Rotting in a cell in Azkaban, crying nightly for his mother. Harry shook his head. It wouldn't do to go judging someone he barely knew just because he reminded him of a man from his past. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Harry picked up his staff and made his way out of the room. His stomach was growling.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Legolas was sitting in the gardens, watching the firebugs flitter around in the early twilight. He was thinking deeply, twirling a fallen leaf between his slender fingers. He was thinking about his new guest, Harry Potter, and about his special abilities. He'd watched him fighting as the great cat, and truth be told he nearly wasn't sure whether to take down the warg or his opponent. When the cat appeared to be fighting the warg, slashing with his great claws and battling for his life, Legolas made his decision. He remembered running up to the fallen cat, dagger in hand just in case, and his amazement as it shifted into a boy.

That boy was very interesting to Legolas, though he wasn't sure yet whether his interest was wrought from suspicion or fascination. He spoke strangely, he was clearly radiating a power the likes of which Legolas had never seen, and yet he carried elven weapons and Gandalf seemed to trust him. He was very handsome, so like a son of men with his chin stubble and square jaw, and yet so like an elf with his hint of ethereal beauty. He was an enigma.

Whether it was out of distrust or captivation, it didn't matter, Legolas wanted to keep an eye on him; get to know him if he could. He had a very strong feeling that the boy would hold a roll in the fate of Middle Earth, though he wasn't sure if he would watch it fall or hold it up. Letting the leaf flutter to the ground, Legolas stood and brushed off the front of his clothes. He hadn't yet supped and decided to make his way back to the castle and find something to eat.

When he arrived at the balcony where they usually dined, the object of his thoughts was sitting in a chair with an untouched plate of food in front of him, looking out upon the forest absent mindedly. Legolas was caught for a moment, staring at the twilit light gracing his face. His eyes were a green unlike any he'd ever seen; as beautiful and deep as the finest emerald. Legolas shook his head, scolding himself for being caught by a pretty face. He saw many of them, after all, as one was hard pressed to find an unattractive elf. That was the thing of it, though. Legolas had met many men and women, many elves of both gender, and yet none looked as this boy.

"Your meat will go cold, Harry Potter," said Legolas at length, lips quirking in a small smile when the boy jumped and his silverware clattered onto the table.

"Merlin, you scared me!" Harry said, though he didn't sound angry. He picked up his utensil and stabbed a small tomato with it, however he didn't place it in his mouth.

"Are you not hungry?" Legolas asked, sitting across from the boy and picking out a few vegetables and some chicken for himself. He looked up to see Harry observing at him, but before their eyes met he looked back at his stabbed tomato.

"I don't know. I thought I was." Harry, for his part, was thinking about fighting the orcs and how he'd very nearly lost his life. He remembered the arrow suddenly sticking out of the warg's head, the sense of relief he'd had when he saw the elves storming to their rescue.

"I didn't properly thank you for saving my life," said Harry suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "So, you know…thank you." He was entirely aware that he was being completely awkward and blushed. He finally popped the tomato in his mouth, savoring its sweet juice as it rushed out and coated his tongue.

"You are welcome. We were lucky to find you when we did. We had been out for a couple of days tracking the very same band of orcs which attacked you. Fate brought us to you at the right time, it would seem." Legolas realized then that his words were true. It must have been fate, indeed, that brought his hunting party to that specific place at that specific time, or else an act of the Valar. His resolve to watch the boy hardened. Clearly, he was important.

"You are very different from anyone I have met," said Legolas, and Harry seemed to get nervous, fidgety even.

No one had drilled Harry about his oddities as of yet. The elves all seemed to know about him, and Gandalf took it all in stride; Harry suspected that he knew as well. What was he supposed to say? Legolas was an elf, so maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to tell him the truth? Why did he care, anyway? He didn't know this Legolas Greenleaf.

"How do you mean?" asked Harry, for lack of a better response.

"You speak very strangely, and you do not seem to be completely human. All of the Istari are old men, and you are young yet. You look like a man, but also like an elf. I confess myself to be confused by you." Legolas took a small bite of chicken, eyeing Harry for his reaction.

"My sister and I are from somewhere far from here. We were very lost when the elves of Lórien found us and took us in. We've lived with them for the past six months," said Harry, still avoiding the questions.

Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise at the information. "Lady Galadriel took you in? You must be important, indeed, for her to allow an outside such as yourself to live amongst her people."

That was news to Harry. He'd simply thought the elves were very hospitable. "That's not a normal thing?"

Legolas laughed, his eyes sparkling. If what the boy said was true, and he gave no outward signs that it wasn't, then he must be trustworthy. Lady Galadriel was very rarely wrong, and Legolas had no doubts that she would not let someone live in her home if they were not sound of heart. "No, it is not. Lady Galadriel rarely does things without reason, and although most elves will help those in need it is very rare that they let someone live amongst them without purpose."

Well, that certainly gave Harry something to think about.

**A/N: So, just in case anyone is upset about it, I'd like to point out that not all elves are vegetarians as the movies would have you believe. They have words for cooked animals and salted meats, and they clearly hunt for in the books Lord Elrond provides the Fellowship with fur coats. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, I just wanted to point out here that Lady Galadriel cannot **_**actually **_**use Occlumency. That was just what Harry thought of when he heard someone in his mind because that was familiar to him. She is just particularly clairvoyant and can speak to people in their minds. Sorry for the confusion on that. **

**On that note, I'd like to point out here that I am an amateur writer who is trying to get practice in so I can better myself. There is no need for anyone to be rude. If you notice a discrepancy, or perhaps have a suggestion for me, I would be more that glad to hear it in a civil and polite review or PM. Constructive criticism is a wonderful thing, but being mean accomplishes nothing but making you look like a jerk and discouraging aspiring authors. So please be kind and remember that you wouldn't want someone cutting your own work down. If you simply cannot stand something in my story, there are plenty of other fanfics you can go out and read. **

**Thank you, as always, to all of the wonderful and encouraging readers! **

**Chapter the Seventh**

_Thwak! _

Harry notched another arrow, taking aim of the target at the far end of the practice range. He took a deep breath, as Haldir had taught him, and when he released it he also loosed the arrow.

_Thwak! _

He smiled with satisfaction as it lodged itself in the bull's-eye, directly in between his last two. Gandalf had been in the dungeons questioning the Gollum creature for at least a day and a half, and he would see no one. He would not even allow the elves to bring him food or drink. Terrified screams had recently begun to rent through the air, a sound unlike anything Harry had ever heard. They were sometimes faint and sometimes clear as day. He shuddered, not envying the creature that was on the receiving end of Gandalf's wrath.

While Gandalf was otherwise occupied, Harry had begun to find himself rather bored, and thus made his way to the range. There didn't seem to be nearly as many elves in Mirkwood as there were in Lórien, and those he'd encountered were altogether less welcoming. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that they more or less lived in a hotbed of evil activity. He was sure they were constantly on their guard.

Harry sighed, walking over to the target and pulling out his arrows. He was, in truth, growing restless. While in Lórien he had spent nearly all of his time training with Haldir or Hermione, and now he found himself with hours to kill and yet no one to kill them with. He wondered idly what they did for fun in Mirkwood. Hunt orcs?

Harry packed up his arrows and slung his bow over his shoulder. He made his way slowly out of the range, taking a left towards a garden he'd seen on his way. There was a bench there, but he ignored it in favor of a particularly comfortable looking patch of grass. He propped his bow and arrows up against the bench and plopped down on the ground, laying back and pillowing his head with his arms.

He found it hard to reconcile this part of Mirkwood with the rest. He knew the legends, of course, of how the shadow of Dol Guldur had taken control of the forest, tainting it with evil. Dol Guldur was the dark lord Sauron's magic, or evil, or what have you in disguise, and he all but ruined the place with his malice and his armies of orcs. The trees were no longer peaceful, but angry and bitter. He also knew that the elves of Mirkwood, who once ruled the entire forest, were forced either out or into this little safe haven. King Thranduil led them, and they kept this little area mostly free from Sauron's taint.

Harry watched a little cottontail hop around in a patch of flowers, stopping now and then to sniff the air in suspicion. This fortress was peaceful, and he marveled at how different it was from the rest of the land. The evil still permeating the rest of Mirkwood was almost tangible. He remembered how quiet it had been when he'd ventured briefly into the trees to hunt. In the castle grounds there were birds chirping, squirrels chattering, insects humming; the place was bursting with life.

Harry let the sunlight filtering in through the canopy of trees warm his face and he closed his eyes. He was nearly asleep when he heard a soft _whoosh _and felt the presence of someone else sitting on his left. He cracked one eye open and saw Legolas sitting cross-legged next to him.

"Lo," said Harry, closing his eye again. Legolas chuckled.

"You seem to be lacking entertainment. Are we that tedious to you?"

Harry cracked his eye open again and saw Legolas looking down at him, a soft smile playing on his lips. The sunlight was reflecting off his face and hair, giving him an almost ethereal look.

"I'm not used to sitting around like this. Haldir, I guess you could say he's my teacher, runs a tight schedule. By this time on a normal day I'd be nearly passed out from working so hard."

"Well, I dare say you would be passed out from blood loss should you train as you usually would in your condition. Your wounds are not fully healed, and you run the risk of them tearing open again should you strain yourself too hard." Legolas looked thoughtful for a moment. "Still, I think we can find something worth our time to do."

He unfolded himself and rose with considerable grace. Harry opened both eyes then, as Legolas reached one of his hands down to him. "Come with me."

Harry hesitated a moment, but took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He grabbed his bow and arrows and strapped them to his back before following Legolas out of the gardens and towards the castle. Harry truly didn't want to go back into the castle; he was enjoying the outdoors, but he didn't want to be rude so said nothing as they got closer. He was surprised, though, when Legolas made a turn before they reached the doors. Harry followed him then to the stables. Belan was there, and he nickered and whinnied in happiness when he saw Harry.

"Hey, boy! How are you doing in here?" Harry said, walking up and kissing Belan on the nose. The horse snorted in his face and Harry laughed as the action made his hair fly back. Belan nickered again and stamped one of his feet and Harry patted his neck soothingly.

"I know you probably want to get home, but we can't go until Gandalf is done." Harry rubbed the horse's face gently, tugging slightly on one of his ears.

"He is probably restless. That's good," said Legolas and Harry turned to ask why in the world that would be a good thing but stopped short when he saw the elf carrying Belan's saddle. He held it up and Harry took it from him, perplexed.

"I thought we might go riding. My horse, Galdon, hasn't been out for pleasure in some time. Perhaps it will quell your boredom." Legolas looked hopeful and Harry relented. It would be good to get out of the castle anyway.

As he was saddling Belan a thought occurred to him. "Isn't it too dangerous to be running around outside in the forest?"

Legolas poked his head out of the stall across from Belan's and blinked. "No, not if we keep to the north of the woods. We have secured most everything north of the Mirkwood mountains." He smiled. "Why? Are you afraid of a little confrontation, Harry Potter?"

Harry felt his ears redden in embarrassment. "No! Still, I'd rather not get attacked by orcs again if it's all the same to you."

Legolas brought his head back into the stall. "Do not worry. I promise we will be safe."

"Famous last words," Harry muttered as he tightened the last strap on Belan's saddle.

"What was that, Harry? I am afraid I did not quite catch it," called Legolas. Sarcasm was, apparently, not limited to his own world then. Harry smiled slightly, and led Belan out of the stall. Legolas was waiting for him, holding the reins of a beautiful black horse with a strip of white down its face. The horse's legs were also white up about a quarter of the way.

"Ready?" Legolas asked after pulling himself up and throwing one long slender leg over the back of Galdon. Harry followed suit, if not with a tad more awkwardness.

"Ready!"

They made their way out of the stall, trotting slowly, with Legolas in the lead. Once they left the castle grounds, however, the elf turned and gave Harry a come-and-get-me grin before urging Galdon on and taking off like a shot. Harry didn't waste a second. He kicked Belan in the flank.

"_Go with the wind, Belan. Go!" _he said to the horse in elvish and before he could blink Belan was running faster than Harry thought possible. They caught up with Legolas and Galdon, but seeing the other horse pull up beside him gave Galdon a sense of urgency and competitiveness. He increased his speed until they were evenly matched.

Harry looked over at Legolas, gripping his horse's mane instead of the reins and laying almost flat, his hair billowing out behind him like a golden flag. He truly looked like a prince and a warrior in that moment and Harry was in awe. He turned back to the path in front of him, shaking his head to clear it. They were on a sort of rough road through the forest and the trees created a long arch far above their heads. Every now and then they had to move out of the way of a spare branch, but for the most part their path was clear. Harry reveled in the thrill of the speed, the wind on his face reminding him with heart-wrenching clarity of flying.

After some time Legolas motioned for Harry to slow down. Harry did, and they were both breathless and had rosy cheeks. Their horses were sweating and breathing heavily, but Harry got the feeling they had thoroughly enjoyed the run.

"We are close to the river that runs through the forest," said Legolas suddenly. "There is a pool there which is as clear as a crystal glass. You can see all the way to the bottom, and the fish which live in the water do not mind swimmers. Belan and Gordon can have a drink."

The idea of swimming in a cool pond sounded heavenly to Harry. "That sounds great! Lead the way."

They rode for perhaps fifteen minutes longer before the trees cleared and they came out into a sort of clearing. It was a beautiful place, with, as Legolas promised, a crystal clear pool of water which was so transparent Harry could see the individual pebbles all the way at the bottom. There were exotic trees overhanging here and there with bright blue, pink, and purple flowers, lush green grass as tall as Harry's knees, and a raging waterfall so tall Harry had to crane his neck to see all the way to the top. The whole clearing smelled fresh and wet, like a garden after a spring shower.

"Wow," was all Harry said.

They dismounted and removed the saddles from their horses, draping them over a low tree branch. The horses made their way immediately to the pool and began to drink, swishing their tails back and forth in contentment. Harry looked over to Legolas, only to be stopped short when he saw the elf was in the middle of pulling off his dark green shirt. Harry choked. Legolas' skin was creamy white, smooth and unmarked but for a five pointed scar on his left shoulder. His body was toned and lithe, entirely hairless except a small trail of slightly darker blond hair leading down from his belly button. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he turned away, unclasping his cloak and draping it over Belan's saddle.

He followed Legolas' example and pulled his own shirt over his head. He was significantly more scarred than Legolas, from many years of quiddich, the life of an Auror, and the many battles he'd taken part in. He was also more slender, and compared to Legolas' milky complexion he was extremely tan. He removed his boots and set them aside, opting to keep his thin trousers on.

He heard a splash behind him and the horses sputtered and stamped their feet. He turned and saw Legolas' slightly rippling form swimming deep under the water. Thankfully, he had also opted to stay in his trousers. Harry jumped in after him and the horses, tiring of being splashed, trotted off to graze on some of the tall grass. The water was cool, but not cold, against his skin and he sighed with contentment as he felt the sweat wash off of him. He closed his eyes and leaned back to float on his back.

His peace was short-lived, though, as a second later he felt a hand on his chest and he was pulled under the water. He flailed his arms uselessly and opened his eyes, panicked. Through the clear water he saw Legolas laughing at him, his hair flowing around him like wisps of silk. Harry's fear turned to embarrassment and he grabbed hold of the top of the elf's head and pushed him further into the water, propelling himself to the surface as he did so.

"Prat," he spluttered, coughing up a little water. The day was too beautiful for his mood to be sour, though, and when they elf swam to the surface Harry grinned and splashed him in the face. Legolas laughed merrily and splashed him back and Harry jumped on him to pull him under the water.

"You…should have seen…your face!" Legolas said through breathless laughter and in between being dunked under the water. Harry let Legolas go, then, laughing along with the elf.

"Well what do you expect, sneaking up on a bloke like that?" said Harry, poking Legolas in the chest.

"Can you climb?" asked Legolas without preamble. He looked up at the massive waterfall thoughtfully. Harry turned to look, too, and he felt his heartbeat in his throat.

"Climb that?"

Legolas turned to him and smiled – something he seemed to do a lot of – his blue eyes glinting with mirth. "Are you afraid, Harry Potter?"

"Aren't you?" asked Harry, but Legolas was already swimming towards the bottom of the falls where rocks rose to the top on the sides of the water. Harry groaned and followed. He wasn't afraid of heights, but he was most certainly sensible enough to be a little afraid of slipping off of a waterfall and falling to his death.

Legolas climbed out of the pool, water trailing down his body in rivulets. Harry's mouth went temporarily dry. When he'd reached the top of the first set of rocks, Legolas turned and offered Harry his hand. Harry took it and let the elf pull him up to stand next to him.

"I am afraid of many things, Harry, though this is not one of them." He peered up to the top of the falls. "I have been coming here for nearly five hundred years. It is safe, and should we fall (which I have most certainly done) the pool below is deep enough to keep us from death."

He looked back at Harry. "Come on."

Harry took a deep breath and followed the elf up the rock face, finding himself extremely glad for the upper body strength training with a bow had given him. The rocks weren't as steep as they looked, and there were plenty of small overhangs for them to rest on, but it was still rigorous; it was also thrilling, though, and Harry relished the rush of adrenaline it gave him to be so high with no support should he slip.

He did not slip, though, and after quite a long climb he pulled himself up next to Legolas and sat with his feet dangling off the side of the rocks. They both sat for a while in silence, their thighs barely brushing, overlooking the forest. Harry could see Thranduil's castle from his perch, its towers and turrets a soft yellow in the fading sun.

Harry thought again about how different the forest was from one place to the next. "Being here and in Lothlórien it is so hard to remember all of the evil and darkness that lives beyond the borders."

"There is more to come still." Legolas looked at him, the sunlight softening his features and reflecting in his eyes. "Many of my brethren have left these lands to sail to the West. More leave every day, but I cannot bring myself to go."

He turned to look out over the forest again. "Why not?" Harry asked.

"There is a calling that I feel; something pulling me and telling me that I have a role to play yet in the fate of Middle Earth." He smiled slightly. "Besides, I harbor a great love for Middle Earth. Most elves do not wish to have anything to do with the affairs of the other races, but I think that they all exist for a reason. We tend to think ourselves superior to others because we live longer, or are sharper of the mind. We could not, however, work the mines like the dwarves, nor revel in the simplicity of a famer's life as men, or even bring as much joy to people as hobbits. My people are abandoning Middle Earth because they feel evil stirring, but I cannot reconcile leaving all of the other inhabitants here to perish. We all serve a purpose."

Harry's heart thudded in his chest. This elf was a good soul, and his compassion moved Harry like nothing else. He felt, suddenly, the place where their skin was touching as if it were on fire and his breath hitched. He looked up to see Legolas observing him thoughtfully. Harry thought he would stop breathing altogether when the elf in question reached up and moved a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It was such a cliché, and made Harry feel slightly girly, but he had to admit to himself that it made his pulse race when Legolas' fingers accidentally brushed his skin.

"Your ears are slightly pointed, almost like an elf's. Did you know?" Legolas said, then, and the spell was broken. Harry blushed deeply and took a quiet deep breath. He reached up and touched his ear and noticed that it did feel slightly more pointed than he was used to. When did that happen?

"I didn't know that. They've never been pointed before…"

Legolas was looking at him strangely then. "What _are _you, Harry Potter?"

Harry tried to laugh it off. "Well, right now I am a very hungry wizard! Should we head back?"

Legolas was undoubtedly aware that Harry was changing the subject, but he was a patient elf and so let it slide for the time being. He would get answers eventually, for he was equally as persuasive as he was patient. He nodded his agreement and started lowering himself down. Harry followed suit.

They had made it about halfway down and were stopping for a rest on one of the ledges when Legolas heard Harry's stomach growl. He laughed, and the awkward mood which had settled upon them lifted like a veil.

"I know of a quicker way down," said Legolas, smiling mischievously.

"Really? Why haven't we been taking it then?" Harry asked.

"Watch."

Without another word the elf stood and stepped back a few paces and, before Harry could even think about stopping him, launched himself forward off of the ledge. Harry gasped and gripped the edge, heart pounding. He heard a splash and peered over the edge to see Legolas swimming, unharmed, to the surface. He broke out of the water and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, waving merrily at Harry.

"Come on, jump! It is not as far as it seems!" he called, and Harry gulped. Not one to be outdone, he stood (somewhat shakily, though he would never admit it) and pulled back. He took a deep breath, two quick steps forward, and propelled himself off the side. The fall didn't seem very long, and Harry was sure that his heart didn't beat until he hit the water with a resounding _splash!_ He'd entirely forgotten to plug his nose, so he had the altogether uncomfortable sensation of water launching up his nostrils; still, as he broke the surface and came face-to-face with a laughing Legolas, he couldn't find it in himself to be upset.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

They were greeted when they arrived back at the castle, just after full sunset, by an elf Harry did not recognize. He was surrounded by five royal guards, so Harry figured it was safe to assume that it was King Thranduil. He had Legolas' high cheekbones and lush blond hair. He held a metal helm in his left arm, his right hand on the hilt of his impressive sword.

"Father," Legolas said, bowing his head and confirming Harry's suspicions.

"Your majesty," said Harry, bowing at the waist in a perfectly gentlemanly manner. It was diminished, somewhat, by the fact that neither he nor Legolas had bothered to don their shirts for the ride back to the castle. It didn't matter what Harry looked like, as it turned out, because King Thranduil had eyes only for his son.

"Your attire is entirely inappropriate for a prince, my son, as always."

Legolas didn't say a word, but Harry could feel the tension coming off of him in waves. This was a common discussion, then. Harry suddenly felt extremely awkward, standing in front of a king half naked with his son. They hadn't done anything wrong, but the same piercing grey eyes which Legolas possessed with such warmth were looking at them with such coldness from his father that Harry felt more or less naked.

"My party and I came across a battlefield just south of here. There were at least a hundred slain orcs, many of them with your arrows in their skulls." Thranduil looked at his nails, eyebrows raised. "I was wondering why no messenger was sent to me, as you had clearly spotted and taken out one of the groups we'd been hunting."

"I am sorry, father, but we had wounded to attend to and I knew you would be headed back in a few days," said Legolas, bowing deeper this time.

"Wounded? There was no sign of wounded elves."

"It was not one of my soldiers. In your absence the ranger, Aragorn, asked me to hold a prisoner here for Gandalf the Grey so that he may come to question him on a most grievous matter. Gandalf was on his way with his pupil, who stands before you now, when they were attacked by the orcs. They had slain many before we arrived, though they would soon have been overwhelmed had we not found them."

Harry didn't know if he should speak or not. He came close several times, but Thranduil was a severe elf, and he made Harry want nothing more than to be silent.

"His pupil? I was not aware that there were any Istari other than the five of the council in Middle Earth." Thranduil looked at Harry finally, though Harry wished he wouldn't have almost immediately. He felt like a specimen under a microscope, so scrutinizing was Thranduil's gaze. "He does not look like much. A scrawny son of man, perhaps, but nothing so special as in Istari."

"I am not an Istari. I am simply a wizard, your grace." Harry barely managed to tack on the pleasantry at the end of his sentence, though he did and his tone gentled.

"I do not believe that you are being truthful, my son." Thranduil looked back to his son with unblinking eyes.

Annoyed, Harry didn't give Legolas half a chance to answer. He stepped in front of the king and hoped with all he had that the wandless spell he and Hermione had been practicing would work for him this time. Harry held two fingers in front of his mouth, as if there were in invisible match between them. This was the easy part. The little flame lit between his fingers, shining brightly in his emerald eyes. The next part was trickier, and he'd only managed to do it once. Taking a deep breath, acutely aware of all the eyes trained on him, he blew gently into his fingers. To his delight, his spell worked!

Harry resisted the urge to grin and concentrated on the rest of the spellwork. A form began to take shape out of the flame, growing larger and larger until it was almost as tall as Harry himself. His hair blew back in the sudden wind, and before everyone's eyes a phoenix took shape out of the flame and sung an eerie song which crackled like fire. The spell was meant to create a phoenix which would fly about his enemies and set them or the ground around them aflame. Harry wasn't sure how effective it would be in battle, but it could by him some time to get away should he be entirely overwhelmed. He wouldn't have dared risk it in battle unless he'd perfected it first. This was momentous for him.

The bird flapped its great wings and circled around Thranduil once, nearly catching his hair on fire, before flying high up in the air and disappearing. Everyone was silent, including Harry who couldn't believe he'd pulled it off, never mind how bold he'd been in trying it in the first place.

At length, Thranduil spoke. "Well, it appears you spoke the truth, Legolas." He turned to Harry. "I am Thranduil, King of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood. I am honored to make your acquaintance."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. Right, so _now _he was important enough to warrant a proper introduction. He swallowed his pride, however, and bowed once more. "I am Haren son of Jamison of Godric's Hollow," he said, opting to use the name and title Hermione had thought of for him and hoping Legolas wouldn't call him out on it.

"The weapon strapped to your horse is of elven make. Such a gift is rare. Where did you come across it?"

Was he alluding to the fact that he thought Harry _stole _the bow? Harry tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien gave it to me, sir, as a gift."

"We found a few of your black arrows in the dead orcs as well. Not a single one was anywhere short of a blow which would kill immediately. You are well trained, though I wonder who trained you. Certainly no man could teach one to shoot a bow so perfectly."

"That would be the Lady's doing as well. She had Haldir of Lórien train me in combat."

The king looked thoughtful. "Elves do not simply take in humans and have their best warriors train them, nor gift them with such exquisite weaponry. I wonder why the Lady has chosen to do so. Could you enlighten me, perhaps?"

"I am afraid not, your majesty. I know nothing of the inner workings of Lady Galadriel's mind, though doubtlessly she knows much of mine." Harry smiled wryly, thinking of how simple it was for the Lady in question to get past his mental barriers.

"Doubtlessly…" The king paused for a moment, looking at Harry shrewdly, clearly thinking deeply of something, though Harry couldn't begin to guess what. "You will stay here, Haren son of Jamison, after Gandalf makes his departure. You would be a fine warrior to have on my staff."

Harry choked, and was about to answer when he felt slender fingers wrap around his wrist and squeeze. He looked up at Legolas and the elf gave the very slightest shake of his head before stepping forward and letting go of Harry.

"Ada," he began. "Haren has not yet completed his training. Surely you would want him to be fully capable before having him join the ranks?"

"He will complete his training here. You can finish with him, son."

"But Ada, he has not yet finished his training with the Istari either. I cannot do that for him, surely."

Harry realized that this was something common between the father and son. Legolas was an old hat at convincing his father to see reason, and Harry resisted the urge to smile when he saw another thoughtful look cross Thranduil's face.

"Well then, I suppose Gandalf the Grey will simply have to stay here as well," the king said at last, sounding more than a little final about the matter. All thoughts of grinning left Harry's mind.

"Ada…" Legolas began, trailing off in frustration. It was going to be a long night.

**A/N: "Ada" means "father" I do believe. I am terribly sorry for the long wait! Family was visiting and you probably know how that goes. No free time whatsoever! Anyway, review please!**


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